


FUBAR

by Snooky



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooky/pseuds/Snooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, what else would I call the sequel to SNAFU? Guess who's back? ...And the men are not thrilled to see them. 2011 PBA winner, best long general story and best OC's. Originally posted to ff.net in Jan. 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

FUBAR

(stands for: Fouled up beyond all recognition)

This is the sequel to the story SNAFU (situation normal all fouled up) in which the MI agents, Boswell and Garrett are first introduced. Let's just say their interaction with Colonel Hogan was a bit unpleasant. I strongly suggest that if you have not read SNAFU, please do so. It is only seven chapters and if you read it, this story will make a lot more sense.

Chapter one

"Colonel? We have an urgent message from London." Kinch had just come up through the bunk entrance and interrupted a not-so-scintillating game of dominoes.

"Thanks." Hogan read the piece of paper and gave it a once over. "Hmmm. It looks like we're getting some important company."

"How's that, sir?" Carter asked as he shuffled the tiles.

"Two agents. It's been arranged for them to be sent here as prisoners. We are to give them cooperation and whatever they need to complete their mission." Since the invasion, missions were constantly being adjusted, more prisoners were being captured and processed, and Hogan's team was working harder than ever. They were constantly on their toes. "Whatever it is, it's got to be top secret for them to go to such lengths."

"How will we know who they are? We're getting new prisoners in here almost daily," Kinch reminded Hogan. "London didn't send a recognition code."

Hogan reread the message. "You're right Kinch. Notify London we acknowledge the orders but we need a recognition signal. Scramble the message."

Kinch went back down below and shortly thereafter, returned. "Colonel. London says no code is necessary. We'll know."

One week earlier

Todd Boswell and Mitch Garrett, who were now assigned to the OSS, were receiving a briefing that was giving both of them a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs. They waited for their department head to finish his instructions and impatiently pointed out a few of the initial problems that they could foresee with the plan.

"With all due respect, sir," Boswell began. "We've already been seen by the Kommandant of the stalag and if he recognizes us, well," Boswell drew his hand across his neck.

"Not to mention blowing Hogan's operation, as well," Garrett added helpfully.

"Gentlemen. Klink has, on numerous occasions, not even recognized his own prisoners disguised as various German agents. I'm sure you two can come up with appropriate disguises."

Both agents' moods deflated.

"There's another thing, sir." Garrett was loath to bring this up, but he drew upon his nerve and started to explain. "Colonel Hogan. He won't be too happy to see us again, to say the least."

"I know about your past history, gentlemen." The director had been briefed as well. "We are taking that under consideration. Colonel Hogan's methods may be a bit unorthodox. But, he's a good soldier. He follows the chain of command. This mission is too important. You'll work together. Is that clear?" He waited for his agents' affirmative responses and then dismissed them.

"I got a real bad feeling about this," Boswell murmured to his partner, as they left the building.

"Take a number," Garrett replied, as he contemplated updating his will.

Several groups of new prisoners arrived over the next few days, but none of them appeared to be the agents Hogan were expecting. His staff was kept busy vetting the new arrivals, as well as rescuing airmen who were shot down on the nightly raids. Three days after receiving the message, a truck pulled into the compound. Alerted by prisoners milling around outside, Hogan and Kinch moseyed closer to Klink's office, and waited.

As the doors opened and the prisoners left the truck, Hogan, at first, could not believe what he was seeing.

"Kinch, tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

Kinch, who was trying not to stare, finally found his voice. "Is that…?"

"Moe and Larry," Hogan whispered. He then looked up at the sky. "What did I do to deserve this? "

"Do you think Klink will recognize them?" Kinch was still dumbfounded, and also ready to start evacuating as soon as Hogan ordered it.

Hogan got a better look at the two men, who were deliberately trying not to make eye contact. It was clear to him who they were, but on a closer look, they were disguised. Their hair color was different. One was wearing glasses and their uniforms were sized too big in order to make them appear thinner.

"Klink didn't recognize Carter dressed as a Gestapo agent, a doctor or Hitler," Hogan recalled. "I doubt he'll remember these two. But," he continued. "I'm heading in."

Kinch started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Their rank, Colonel. They're privates."

Hogan paused for a moment and grinned. "Sergeant, it's time for little taste of basic training!"

"You're truly evil, sir."

"I know." Hogan chuckled.

"Excuse me, Kommandant, Colonel Hogan is here." Hilda glanced at the two new prisoners now standing somewhat at attention in front of Klink's desk. She recognized them immediately, but gave no indication that she had seen them before, since Hogan had winked at her.

Klink was so busy processing prisoners lately that he had begun to disburse with his usual speeches and left it to his staff and Hogan to show the prisoners the ropes.

"Colonel Hogan. Privates Garrett and Boswell. You two; this is your senior POW officer."

"Stand at attention, Private!" Hogan barked at Garrett, who was slightly slouching. "This is still a military outfit."

"Yes, sir," Garrett mumbled.

Hogan walked up to the two men. "Where is your salute, soldier?"

"Sorry, Colonel, sir." Boswell saluted as Klink, utterly shocked at Hogan's behavior, stood there, momentarily frozen. Hogan was usually pretty easygoing and, unless a new prisoner was obviously a behavior problem, he was cordial to the new arrivals.

"Colonel Hogan. Do you know these two?" Klink asked.

"Oh, no, sir. Things are just getting slack around here. Have to keep things under control." Hogan grabbed the chair, sat down and plopped his feet on Klink's desk. "Sit down, sir."

Klink, still confused, sat down. Hogan sat up straight, leaned in and spoke softly. "Between you and me, sir, us officers – we've got to keep these enlisted men on their toes, if you know what I mean." Klink didn't notice that Hogan had deftly removed a cigar from his humidor.

Boswell and Garrett, who were now seething, saw everything. Hogan caught Boswell rolling his eyes.

"Something disturbing you, Private Boswell?"

"No, sir!" Boswell shouted.

"That's better."

Garrett unsuccessfully held back a laugh.

"Drop and give me twenty!" Hogan ordered.

"What?"

"Colonel Hogan. These prisoners, they need to be processed." Klink was now so befuddled, he couldn't remember if they had been assigned to a barracks.

Hogan pointed to Garrett and then the ground. "Twenty! Sorry, sir. Tell you what. You've got a lot on your plate. I'll deal with it."

That was fine with Klink. He glanced at his records, stammered Barracks 5 and 11, and dismissed the men. Hogan, who was trying not to laugh, pulled Garrett up by his collar.

"Let's move." He turned and offered Klink a true salute. "Thank you, sir. Come on, double-time! Hup, two, three…"

Prisoners and guards stared in amazement as the two privates left the Kommandanteur, and then ran double-time towards Barracks two. Hogan, playing drill sergeant, was right behind them and was clearly enjoying every moment of their distress. A group of men playing volleyball stopped their game, midstream, to watch.

"That's odd," a corporal commented.

"Wonder what those guys did?" Another quipped.

"Must've been something pretty bad," another man noted, "to have Colonel Hogan barking at them like that."

"I reckon this must be the first time I've ever seen Colonel Hogan run inside the camp, I mean," the server holding the ball, said.

They watched until Hogan, Boswell and Garrett disappeared into the barracks and then returned to their game. The men in the barracks had no clue or idea who the prisoners were, just that they were on the way. Kinch, who had seen them, returned to the barracks, but steadfastly refused to divulge any information, except to reassure them that Colonel Crittenden was not involved. So when the two agents, who were now out of breath, followed Hogan into the barracks, most of the men were temporarily dumbstruck. Within seconds, those that had been involved with Hogan's rescue after he was held by Garrett and Boswell, and the rest, who had all seen the military intelligence agents in the tunnel, recognized them. Their reaction was as Hogan had anticipated.

"Leave it to the army to send these two blokes out here again," Newkirk complained angrily.

"Thought you would have been fired," LeBeau muttered.

Carter just stood there with his mouth hanging open, while Baker chided Kinch for keeping the secret. Olsen got off his bunk, walked deliberately close to the pair, glared and then walked away.

"Colonel, I suppose you have a good explanation for our little boot camp demonstration," Boswell demanded.

Hogan looked him in the eye. "Explanation? Well, it's like this… No. No, I have no explanation." He grinned, grabbed a chair and sat down. "LeBeau? How are we set for bribes? I want these two to skip the normal processing. Klink's up to his neck in new prisoners, plus I kind of confused him, so he let them out a little quickly."

LeBeau walked over to a shelf, and checked the contents. "Leftover beef stroganoff, Colonel. Bribing Schultz shouldn't be a problem."

"Good," Hogan remarked. "Tell Schultz these two are being processed without his help. Now, why are you here?"

"You've had your fun, Colonel Hogan," Boswell retorted, "But we're here on serious business." He motioned towards the bunk entrance. "We need to talk privately, sir."

Hogan noted the seriousness of the agent's voice. "You two can come into my office. It's clean." Standing up, he motioned for the two to follow, leaving the rest of the men in the barracks wondering what was going on.

Garrett was the first to talk. "I suppose you're wondering why we came into camp this way, instead of meeting outside."

"The thought had crossed my mind." Hogan had a witty retort ready, but wisely decided to hold back. "We've met agents before, after they dropped in. You took quite a risk coming in this way, you know. There are a lot of levels to go through, before…"

Garrett stopped him. "We're able to bypass some of them. I won't say how, but headquarters decided that we needed a base, and this camp was safe. We have no idea how long we'll need to be here, and it's better than constantly switching safe houses."

"When you need to get out…" Hogan added.

Boswell nodded. "At Stalag 13 that could be arranged."

"Good enough." Hogan was aware that the two agents had nothing on them. All information was in their heads. "I take it there's more and that somehow we're involved."

"Correct, Colonel." Boswell leaned forward. "You're a rescue and sabotage operation. We and other members of the OSS have been working on the mother of all rescue operations."

"Yeah, I've been going nonstop since the invasion," Hogan replied.

Boswell let that sink in for a moment. "Colonel, there are 500 men trapped behind enemy lines in Yugoslavia. The partisans are helping to hide them, but we were working on a way to get them out of there." (1)

"500?" Hogan not been informed of the situation. "But, we're nowhere near Yugoslavia," he pointed out.

"We were covering all the bases. Right now this is in the planning stages. Originally, our office thought that, since you have experience in this sort of thing, they would pull us out of Italy and decided to send us in this direction just in case."

"Man." Hogan ran his fingers through his hair. "They better not expect them all to come through here. LeBeau can't cook for 500."

The two agents couldn't tell if Hogan was joking or actually serious; thinking that his operation would somehow be involved.

"Actually," Garrett, who sounded disappointed, said. "They then told us to drop out of this mission and called us back to England. We were told to still come here. Apparently, there's something out there that is just as important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Operation Halyard. 1944. I discovered this operation over the summer while doing research for this story. I was hoping to find a real good reason for Barrett and Boswell to return to the area. This story was so unbelievable and fit in so well with Hogan's operation that I wanted to at least mention it. But, unfortunately, like Hogan said. "We're nowhere near Yugoslavia." Operation Halyard was a mission launched by OSS agents stationed in Italy with help from a Serbian general. They successfully rescued 500 airmen who were shot down during air raids on Yugoslavian oil fields. The airmen were being hidden by partisans, peasants, and farmers behind enemy lines. The rescue teams built an airstrip right under German noses, and flew them all out on C-47s. For political reasons, this operation was kept secret by Britain, the U.S. and the Yugoslavian gov't. for many years. There is a terrific book out that describes the operation. The Forgotten 500: The Untold Story of the Men Who Risked All for the Greatest Rescue Mission of World War II, by Gregory A. Freemen. The author also has a website. Perhaps another HH author out there can find a way to get the "heroes" involved.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Chapter 2  
R

Chapter two

"Well, if it's not the Yugoslavia rescue, what is it?" Hogan leaned back in his chair and waited… And waited.

"It's like this, Colonel." Garrett sounded a bit embarrassed. "We don't know."

The colonel sat back up straight. "Very funny. I'm not laughing. Now, spill it," he demanded.

"I said, we don't know!" Boswell, who was extremely testy, yelled. The process of becoming prisoners in disguise was not pleasant, to say the least. Every step until the transfer to Stalag 13 was fraught with danger. The capture, the thankfully short stay at the Dulag and transfer center, and the final ride were a waking nightmare. Well, not quite, Boswell had to admit. Every step was manipulated and planned. But, still, it was extremely nerve-wracking. And the humiliating display in front of Klink was the final straw. Yes, Boswell was testy.

"Watch your tone with me, Boswell," Hogan barked.

"Easy, you two. We're on the same side, remember?" Garrett attempted to be peacemaker while Hogan and Boswell glared at each other.

Hogan took his eyes off Boswell and turned to Garrett. "Why don't you explain, before I start interrogating?"

"You just had to bring that up, didn't you Colonel?" Boswell walked away and stared out the window.

The men in the common room were trying to keep themselves occupied, all the while keeping one ear tuned into the rising voices emanating from Hogan's office.

"Sounds like they're having a real row in there. Maybe we should call for the medic," Newkirk joked. "In case someone gets hurt."

"Hope it doesn't spill out into here." Kinch was on his bunk and attempting to concentrate on a page in the code book. "I'm not cleaning up the mess."

"Shush," Carter interrupted. "I'm trying to hear what they're saying."

"I'm not bringing anything up," Hogan lied. He now realized he was really, really, holding a grudge, and finally decided to be a professional and calm down. "Start over. Go ahead."

Garrett wisely spoke first. "Our instructions were to come here and wait. The information and mission is classified. It was considered too dangerous and too important to let us travel with this stuff in our heads, in case we were captured making our way into Germany. So all we know is that we will be contacted here on this emergency frequency."

"When?" Hogan asked.

"We don't know, Colonel. Hopefully, not long."

Hogan grimaced at Garrett's response. "We can't man the radio 24/7 you know."

"Our headquarters knows someone, Sergeant Kinchloe, is it?"

"Usually," Hogan answered.

"They know he's normally down below after the last roll call. They'll be contacting us one of those nights. Colonel," Boswell stated. "One or both of us will need to be there." He looked straight at Hogan; hoping that the colonel's temper had run out of steam.

Hogan got up from the chair. "That means your home away from home will be this barracks, gentlemen; which means two things. First; I can keep an eye on you two," he flashed a quick smile that quickly disappeared, "And second; two of my men in this barracks will have to be temporarily displaced."

"Can you do that?" Boswell asked, "Without going through Klink?"

Hogan gave the agent a surprised look. "Of course, I can do that. The question is: will any of them be willing to volunteer? Every man in this barracks, by the way, is here for a specific reason. So this is not like musical chairs."

A few moments later, the two spies and Hogan left the office and entered the common room, where the fourteen residents tried to pretend they had no idea a heated conversation was taking place a short distance away.

"Listen up. These two," Hogan pointed at Boswell and Garrett, "Will need to bunk in here during their stay at our little resort. I need two volunteers to go to eight and eleven. Don't know for how long."

"I'll go," Carter raised his hand.

"Carter! Not you. But, thanks. Whoever goes, I'll throw in a dinner when you get back; LeBeau will cook it. Newkirk? What do we have down there?"

"One moment, Colonel," Newkirk popped off his bunk, went to his footlocker and pulled out a ledger. Let's see; bribes. Nylons and perfume… That won't do! Medical supplies… Wilson will have a fit." Newkirk looked up. "I'm sorry, we're short. It's the invasion."

"There's a downside to everything," Hogan grumbled. "Sorry, fellas. Unless someone speaks up, we're drawing straws."

"I'll go." Mills stepped forward.

"Thanks. Anyone else? O'Brien? Good. I'm headed out to get the transfer arranged. Boswell, Garrett, sit there." Hogan pointed to the table. "Don't say anything, do anything, or go anywhere until I get back."

"That was quick," Boswell mentioned to Garrett as Hogan opened the door and announced the transfer had been approved.

"Klink does what I want, most of the time." Hogan grinned. "I just told him you had been pegged as troublemakers and I wanted to keep an eye on you."

"Thanks a lot," Boswell answered sarcastically.

"Mills. O'Brien. You two can go." Several men jumped up to help their comrades move. Others scattered to the tunnels to work and the rest headed outside. Hogan was left alone with Boswell and Garrett. He sighed. "Time to give you the real tour. If you're up here, you've got to know the score."

Eagerly, the two agents stood up.

"Listen and pay attention," Hogan ordered. "This could save your life. You've already been in the tunnels. So, we'll start in the compound.

"We have parts of the fence that roll up. I'll give you a diagram later and you'll memorize it. Sometimes," Hogan explained, "The emergency tunnel entrance is unusable. Usually because there are extra patrols, but sometimes for cave-ins."

Hogan then walked the two agents closer to the dog pen. "The doghouse hides another tunnel entrance. The dogs are trained to listen to our commands. They won't hurt you, hopefully," he added for emphasis. "Each inhabited barracks has an entrance as well."

"Impressive," Boswell noted.

"Yeah, we keep adding more, when we have the time." Hogan pointed out the mess and the rec hall. "Now, look at the guards and tell me what you see."

Boswell and Garrett eyed the towers and, more specifically, the guards in the compound. They were already aware of the deficiencies in the camp layout. Finally, Garrett spoke.

"Not too menacing, are they? Either young or old."

"Correct. We do have a few that are big. I guess that's the word," Hogan chuckled, "And strong. Their primary goal is to get through the war alive. And not get sent east. So it's a delicate balancing act. They can't let us get away with everything or they'll be replaced." Hogan pointed at Schultz. "That's our barrack's guard and the Sergeant at Arms."

"I remember him from before," Garrett said. "He's in charge of the guards?"

"Yes. We have him well-trained," Hogan quipped. "He's seen a lot and keeps it to himself. Easily bribed with food."

"Who would've guessed?" Boswell laughed.

"Listen," Hogan lowered his voice, "Don't take anyone for granted. Ever. Do I think Schultz would rat us out? No, honestly I don't. But Klink and the guards are Germans and they're afraid. And they still have the guns." Hogan led the two back into the barracks. "We run evacuation drills. Haven't had one in a while, though. Since the invasion, it's been nonstop action. I've only had to issue evacuation orders once."

"You're still here. What happened?" Boswell asked as he took a look at the diagram Hogan handed out.

"One Nazi killed another before I was about to take him out. Let's just leave it at that."

"The Freitag incident? We heard about that," Boswell recalled. "You were about to…?" Boswell made a shooting gesture with his hand. Hogan nodded. "Didn't know about that part."

Boswell looked over at Garrett, who mouthed, "Suicide mission." Hogan, who had turned aside, didn't witness the exchange.

"Well, that's the cook's tour. Oh, one more thing. This barracks is in the front line. First in line for the firing squad," Hogan said gaily. "Just ask anyone here if you have any questions. They'll tell you about the chores and roll calls. Oh, and have a great day." Hogan smiled, tapped Kinch's bunk and disappeared.

"He hates us." Boswell, who was still irked by Hogan's demeanor, looked at his partner, who was already intently studying the fence diagram.

"He doesn't hate us. I'd say it's more of an intense dislike, or disdain, maybe. Here, look at this, Todd. On the back. Evacuation signals. In case you're stuck in the compound. That's good planning. What are the odds that this whole camp can be evacuated safely?"

"Not too good," Boswell answered. "Realistically, I'd say, eventually, a lot of the guys would be caught. Unless there's something we don't know."

"That's a sobering thought. If there's an evacuation, the operation has been discovered and everyone would be shot."

The agents formed a new appreciation for both Hogan and the men in camp. They studied the diagrams, flopped onto their bunks and mulled over how close they had actually come to depriving the prisoners of their commander. The two had little time to rest as they were ordered outside for exercise. They continued with the routine of camp life until it was time to head to the radio room after roll call. And this they did, for four straight nights.

"Are you sure they know you're here?" Kinch was getting annoyed at the agents' nightly invasion of his inner sanctum.

"Yes, they know we're here," Boswell grumbled. He was standing behind Kinch, looking over the radioman's shoulder, while Garrett, who had taken up knitting, was patiently seated in a chair on the other side of the table.

"Hey, look!" Garrett triumphantly held up his creation; the beginnings of a scarf. "I've learned how to purl," he said proudly.

"Oh, that's just peachy." Boswell, who was not making the best of a bad situation, tried to tweak the radio. "You sure this thing is working?"

Kinch slapped Boswell's hand. "No touching! And, yes, it's working!"

"Anything?" Hogan asked as he hopped off the lowest rung of the ladder.

"No, Colonel. You need a scarf?" Garrett asked.

"I'm OK. How long do you plan on waiting? Can't stay here forever." Hogan walked over to the radio and took a look at the piece of paper Kinch placed in his hand. "Well, I suppose you could, but I think none of us would be happy with that option."

"Not a chance," Boswell answered.

"He is right," Garrett added. "It's a waste of our training."

"Can you contact someone?" Kinch addressed the question to Garrett. Boswell was getting on his nerves.

"No. We're to maintain radio silence until contact is reestablished." Garrett parroted back the orders, then cursed. "Damn. I dropped a stitch."

"Sorry to interrupt." Hogan looked at Kinch and motioned towards the ladder. Kinch, needing no invitation, popped up. "We need to go over something upstairs."

"Our window is over, Colonel." Disappointed, Boswell reached over the table and gave Garrett a poke. "Come on."

"What? New mission, Colonel? Anything we can do?" Please, Garrett prayed.

"No. Do what you've been doing; enjoying our hospitality. Just don't steal the towels or the little bars of soap." Hogan laughed at his own joke and headed up the ladder.

"Still a comedian," Boswell griped.

"If this goes on much longer, Todd, we may have to send a signal. What do you think?" Garrett held up a scarf which was growing at an enormous rate.

"Perfect – if you're the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. Looks like you found a new career for yourself after the war," Boswell said sarcastically.

Garrett was insulted. "You're just mad because you're bored and aren't channeling your energy into something useful."

"Who have you been talking with? Stalag 13's resident psychiatrist? Look at you!" Boswell shook his head and headed up the ladder. Garrett followed.

"Moe and Larry are getting on each other's nerves," Hogan mentioned to the men before he started the briefing.

"Pity to break up a beautiful friendship," Newkirk laughed.

"I don't think it's a good sign," Carter countered. "They were a good team."

"A well-oiled machine," Hogan muttered as he recalled his time as their prisoner. "I'll second that," Hogan stated. "Let's try and keep them busy until they hear something. They do have a job to do, and so do we."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Chapter 3  
R

Chapter three

Once Hogan had everyone's attention, he began his briefing. "Intelligence reports that the Germans are massing troops along the Siegfried line. Meanwhile, we have a supply shortage. Our orders are to harass troops and supplies heading that way, and damage infrastructure."

"What are they planning to do to break the line, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Don't know. It's secret. But, this is what we're going to do. Increase daytime and nighttime reconnaissance. Pass the info to London so they can arrange for air strikes to destroy roads and convoys. Coordinate with Underground cells from here to Dusseldorf. And keep our transit center open. The Germans will start getting desperate, which means more anti-aircraft fire."

"Once the Allies cross over the Rhine, we could be out of 'ere by Christmas," Newkirk was being uncharacteristically optimistic.

"We can only hope," Hogan replied.

The following night, Operation Siegfried, as Hogan called it, went into motion. Teams of two men each would borrow a truck from the motor pool every night and go as far as they could to conduct reconnaissance, barely making it back in time for morning roll call. They would rest the next day, while the daytime teams would go out in the short amount of time the prisoners had. Information was then passed on to London. Troop movements, supply convoys and the redeployment of guns and tanks were noted. Underground cells began nuisance operations; destroying parts of roads and bridges, tunnels, mining railroad tracks and vandalizing machinery and trucks. London continued to order bombings and Stalag 13 continued to pick up stranded flyers, a smattering of escapees and, not surprisingly, deserter processing was picking up.

"It's going to be tougher to get these people out if the front gets too close, or keeps going back and forth." Hogan had been working on this problem with local Underground leaders for several weeks. They had been forced to map out a more northerly route to the water. "This is longer, but for now, safer." He and Otto, an Underground contact, were meeting in the tunnels.

"I'll pass the information along, Colonel." Otto stopped talking as Garrett and Boswell, for the 13th night in a row, came down at the usual time to monitor the radio for their transmission.

"New friends of yours, Colonel?"

"They're okay." Hogan pulled Otto into a corner and whispered into his ear.

"Those are the two?" Otto had been involved in the search for Hogan and had heard the entire story.

"Yes," Hogan replied. "Stuck here on some unknown mission."

"As privates?" Otto chuckled.

"Yep, it's been a thrill," Hogan laughed.

"We can hear you," Boswell said in an annoyed tone. "Just as happy to be here as you are to have us," he complained.

"This is our lucky night, Todd," Garrett cracked his knuckles, "I can feel it. Hey, Colonel Hogan, if we're still here tomorrow, can we get out? Maybe go into town? "

"No." Hogan turned back to Otto.

"I can count tanks as well as the next guy. I know my directions. You're wasting talent!" Boswell argued to no avail.

"Nope. I've got everyone on the main team, plus anyone else in camp that speaks German, out. Too many. Sorry." Hogan slapped Boswell on the back. Hogan did give Boswell and Garrett the authority to listen for a signal on their own. "Happy listening."

"Yeah, right." Garrett settled himself in his chair, plopped his feet on the table, and removed a crochet hook and some wool from his pocket. "What you think of this color?" he asked his partner.

Boswell took a peek. "What's it for?"

"Afghan."

"Is that all they had? Green?"

"It was that, or black." Garrett passed a loop onto the hook.

"Well, at least it's not olive drab. Hold it!" Boswell held up his hand. "I hear something." Both men tweaked some knobs and listened intently.

"Bob Hope. You sure it's the right frequency?" Garrett asked.

"I'm sure. Bing Crosby. Oh for crying out loud! I can't take this anymore." Boswell pounded the table with his fist, startling Garrett.

"Hey, my wool slipped off! You know you need to calm down." Garrett waited for his partner to get quiet. "Something's not right."

"Ya think?" Was Boswell's response.

"We should call. It's been two weeks. Maybe they gave us the incorrect frequency, or the mission's been scrapped."

Boswell was desperate, but he was no dummy. "I'm with you. But… But… With what's going on, the call could get traced. We'll need to get the message out another way."

"Courier? Or," Garrett snapped his fingers, "One of Hogan's contacts. They may have a radio that can be moved."

"That's a good idea," Boswell agreed. He gazed over into the section of the tunnel where Hogan was busy preparing teams and discussing plans.

"Let's ask him tomorrow, when he's not busy." Garrett wouldn't admit it, but he was a little wary of the colonel. He never fully believed Hogan had forgiven him and his partner for what they put him through. Even if it wasn't totally their fault.

"Or, we can send out smoke signals," Boswell said an exasperated voice. "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't know. He's awfully busy, and…"

Boswell looked at his partner as if the man had suddenly turned into an alien. "You're the one who said we should call," he said slowly. "What is wrong with you? Let's go." He reached over and pulled Garrett up. "Wait a minute. You're afraid of him, aren't you? I think you've spent too much time as a private. It's gone to your head."

"I'm not afraid! Well, maybe just a little, after what we did."

"That's water under the bridge. He had his fun with us when we came in. Let's go." This time, Boswell meant it.

Garrett nodded. "All right. I'm with you." They moved further down into the tunnel and came upon Hogan and a group of men they didn't recognize.

"You want to do what?" Hogan asked a few minutes later. "I thought your orders said no contact."

"Yes, Colonel. But it's been two weeks. This is our secret mission," Boswell said firmly. "Something's not right. This is highly unorthodox, to have us wait this long."

Hogan nodded. "I see your point. Listen, I can't do anything about it tonight, but by tomorrow night, I should have something set up."

"That's fair, Colonel. Thanks. See," Boswell nudged his partner, "That was easy."

"We'll see," Garrett murmured.

True to his word, Hogan set off the next morning to make arrangements. He called the two spies into his office and sat them down. "This is what we'll do. I'll have one of the Underground contacts send out a message to one of my people in London. They'll send out feelers to your people. "

"That's great," Boswell said. "Now that both sides are talking to each other."

Garrett started laughing.

"Not funny, Garrett." Hogan gave the agent a dirty look.

"Sorry, sir."

Hogan continued. "I don't want to risk sending it out of here. Just the mention of you two is too risky. So, is that satisfactory?"

The two nodded.

"Hopefully, they'll send something back on your signal at the specified time." Now Hogan stood up. "I'm off. I have a meeting in town with another one of your colleagues. That's first."

"Of the female persuasion?" Garrett smiled. "I can smell the aftershave."

Hogan shrugged. "Stay here. Keep busy."

"Yeah, the usual." Garrett picked up his crochet hook.

Hogan pointed to Boswell. "Find a hobby," he ordered. He then disappeared through the tunnel bunk entrance.

"There's a pottery class tonight in the rec hall." Garrett was now getting so good at his knitting and crocheting, he didn't even have to look.

"Oh, shut up!" Boswell, now grumbling under his breath, flopped on his bunk and settled in for a nap.

The two spies were still alone in the barracks when Schultz barged in. By now, they were used to the sergeant and the intrusion barely registered.

"Achtung."

"Hello, Schultz." Boswell rolled over and sat up.

"Where's Colonel Hogan?"

"Not sure." Boswell said. "He said something about meeting with…"

"The medic," Garrett quickly said, "To ask about supplies. Try the infirmary."

"The infirmary." Schultz gave the two a suspicious look and left. Thirty minutes later, he returned.

"Did you find him, Schultz?" Garrett asked.

"No. Sergeant Wilson sent me to Barracks 12. They sent me to the recreation hall. The prisoners there sent me to the office. The Kommandant has not seen him, but Hilda told me he stopped by; then left to go to Barracks 3."

Boswell looked up. "Can't help you then, Schultz. Have you asked Carter or LeBeau?"

"I can't find Carter, LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk, or Olsen." Schultz was wrinkling his brow and counting on his fingers. "Or anyone else from here, as a matter of fact, except you two troublemakers."

Boswell walked up to the sergeant. "That's insulting. We've been model prisoners."

"Angels," Garrett added. "Like my Afghan?"

"Very nice."

"I'm sure they'll be back soon. Can we take a message?" Boswell attempted to steer the sergeant towards the door.

"Yes. It's important. Very important," Schultz emphasized the word, 'very'. "There'll be a surprise barracks inspection this afternoon at 3:00. A friend of the big shot is coming. He's an even bigger big shot, than our big shot, so everyone better be here."

"Don't worry. They'll be here, Schultz, not a problem." Boswell ushered him out.

"Holy smokes," Garrett ignored his dropped stitch and dumped his afghan on the floor, "What do we do?" He looked at his watch; then smacked his head. "Kinch and Baker are down there."

Both agents scrambled into the tunnel. The two radiomen looked up when the two spies flew down the ladder.

"Thought your orders were to stay upstairs," Kinch said calmly.

"Yeah, well, we did, and you're lucky we were there," Boswell, who was out a breath, blurted out. "Schultz came by, looking for the colonel, and we sent him on a wild goose chase."

"Why? I mean, what did he need the colonel for?" Baker asked.

"Surprise barracks inspection at 3:00." Garrett stated.

That got the attention of the two sergeants.

"We've got to pull everyone back." Kinch grabbed the map. "You," he pointed to Garrett, "Go to Barracks 9. Find Foster. If he's not inside, get everyone else to look for him. You," he pointed at Boswell, "Barracks 17. Greenberg. Same thing. They're our backup German speakers. Go."

Boswell and Garrett ran. Moments later, Foster and Greenberg had left the tunnels, and were heading towards the last known points where Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk had parked themselves that morning to conduct reconnaissance. Foster went one way, while Greenberg headed in the other direction, but Hogan was a more serious problem. He was supposed to be meeting his contact smack in the middle of Hammelburg.

"What is everyone's position?" Boswell demanded, his training now kicking in.

"Newkirk and LeBeau are here, and Carter is over here. They'll make it back in time, as long as they haven't changed positions. But Colonel Hogan is in town. I couldn't send those two that far by themselves."

"What about Olsen?" Garrett wondered. The sergeant had switched with a downed airman and had left camp several nights ago, and wasn't due back for two days.

"He's in Dusseldorf. Can you believe it?" Kinch shook his head. "With the vet."

"We'll find Hogan. Tell us where he is."

"Boswell, your orders were to shut up and stay put," Kinch insisted.

"Screw the orders," Garrett retorted. "We can pass as Germans. Get us some clothes and we can be out of here in 2 minutes."

Kinch relented. Hogan was disguised as an SS officer, so Kinch had two other men in the barracks outfit Garrett and Boswell as SS, as well. Armed with the correct address, the two hopped into the truck Kinch borrowed from the motor pool and headed out.

Hogan and his contact were exchanging vital information back and forth, over drinks in a busy Hofbrau, located just off the town square. Audrey St. Lawrence was married to an SS general, but worked for Allied intelligence, and had worked with Hogan previously. Today, Hogan and Audrey appeared to the casual observer, to be old friends.

"Our supply lines are delayed," Hogan explained in between sips of beer. "We need to do everything we can to harass troops heading to the line."

Audrey passed a paper over to the colonel. "Bridges, partially undefended, or undermanned."

Hogan nodded. "Last time you and I talked he was anticipating a colder than normal winter," Hogan began talking at a normal decibel level as more people strode by.

"He does like to dabble in meteorology," she laughed. "But as they say, the weather 's the weather."

"Another drink?" Hogan turned to call over the waiter and froze.

Garrett and Boswell approached the table.

Hogan stayed in character. "Can I be of assistance, Major?"

"Actually, yes. We apologize for the intrusion, nodded at Audrey; then looked back at Hogan. "But your unit commander is requesting you return immediately. He glanced at Audrey once more. My apologies."

"You are needed elsewhere." Audrey obviously understood that these were two of Hogan's men.

Hogan, Boswell and Garrett silently made their way through the crowded hall. Once outside, Hogan, his eyes flashing, glared at the two. "What happened? You better have a good reason for leaving camp."

"Everyone needed to be pulled back, Colonel. We got word of a surprise inspection. Kinch sent Foster and Greenberg out to pull Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau back. He agreed to send us to town. We have a truck, sir."

Now relieved that no was hurt, dead, or captured, Hogan relaxed. "Fine." He walked with Boswell and Garrett to the truck. "Good job, guys," he said as he climbed in. "I did pass your information along. Hopefully, we'll hear something tonight."

Fortunately for the men in Barracks two, everyone returned in time to report for the inspection. Schultz ignored Olsen's replacement and announced to Klink, who was overjoyed to show off his star prisoner and his men to his friend, that everyone was present and accounted for. The other residents had straightened up the barracks while awaiting everyone's return.

Schultz caught Boswell's eye. Boswell winked at the sergeant, who smiled back.


	4. Chapter 4

FUBAR

Chapter four

At the appointed time, Boswell and Garrett made their way down to the radio room and sat for two hours, hoping something, anything, would come through. Hogan, his opinion of the two improved, due to their actions that afternoon, kept them company.

"So," he asked, "Is this your first time back in Germany?"

"Yes," Garrett replied. "We spent some time in France after the invasion and then had some leave."

"Lucky," Kinch broke in.

"And then we worked on decoding transmissions." Boswell conveniently left out that the decoding job was a punishment.

"We've been working nonstop since the invasion," Hogan said. "Lots of planes shot down, lost parachutists, and a line of Germans who suddenly want to defect."

"We could use a ticket system, sir. Like a bakery."

Hogan laughed at Kinch's suggestion and then stopped. "Is that your signal?"

"Yes!" Elated, Boswell put down his stack of cards and quickly headed to the radio. Kinch handed him the headset.

You could hear the proverbial pin drop as the other three waited for the transmission to end. A look of disbelief on his face, Boswell put down the headset.

"Well?" Garrett asked.

"They have no idea what we're talking about. They'll look into it. Don't contact us again. We'll be in touch."

"Don't call us, we'll call you?" Garrett, now stunned, blurted out.

"Basically, that's the gist of it. Except…"

"Obviously, we weren't sent here by mistake."

"Oh, no way your people would ever make a mistake," Kinch deadpanned.

"Sergeant," Hogan gave Kinch a not so stern look.

"Can I finish?"

"Go ahead, Boswell."

"We're to stay put and wait for further orders. Next transmission to come through regular camp frequency, so at least we don't have to man this every night from 10 to midnight."

"That's a relief," Garrett said.

"Stay put?" Hogan was now exasperated. "I want my men back in my barracks."

"We can move out tomorrow, sir." Garrett offered.

"Damn tootin' you will." Hogan headed for the ladder. "But seeing that you're both fluent, I'm sure I can find something useful for you two to do, while you're still in the camp."

"I think he's starting to like us," Garrett, his afghan trailing behind him, mentioned to Boswell as they followed Hogan out of the tunnel.

Hogan and the rest of Barracks two welcomed back their long lost residents with open arms, while Boswell and Garrett slunk off to their new homes in Barracks five and eleven. After settling in, they were ordered to the tunnels for a meeting with Hogan to discuss how he could make the best possible use of their abundant amount of free time.

"Eavesdropping, for now," Hogan announced decisively.

"No field operations? Come on, Colonel. Isn't that a waste?" Both agents were pissed. They were still trapped in the stalag for an unknown amount of time, and while relations with Hogan and the rest of the prisoners that knew about the incident were a bit more polite, it was clear that they were not one big happy family.

"No. I have enough field operatives. Plus, Olsen will be back today. Too many of us out there at once and we're asking for trouble. You don't know the area as well as we do. Besides," Hogan got closer to the two and paused, "I don't have to offer any other explanations. We can use extra coverage on Klink's office bug and the phone tap. "

Garrett and Boswell were forced to go their separate ways. Boswell and his deck of cards hunkered down in the tunnel. His job: listening into Klink's less than scintillating phone conversations, while Garrett and his wool emporium manned the coffeepot, a job that was slightly less interesting than Boswell's.

Both men were relieved when it was close to lights out and they were able to talk before heading back to their new barracks.

"Klink is more of an idiot than I thought," Boswell reported. "He fawns over people far lower in rank than he is."

"Gestapo?"

"You bet. What did you get?"

"Nothing. Mundane supply calls. Although they do seem to be diverting goods. These guys are going to be dealing with shortages in the not so distant future. I reported it."

"What did he say?"

"Who?"

"Hogan."

"He said it was good intelligence and that he would pass it on," Garrett sighed. "If I don't hear something soon, I'm going to chew off my leg."

Boswell laughed. "That's a bit drastic. Tired of the knitting?"

"Frustrated."

"You two!" A guard interrupted, "Go to your barracks. Hurry up."

"Sorry," Boswell mumbled. As he crossed the compound, he truly wondered how all these men could stand it.

"Well, you two look down in the dumps." Carter came across Boswell and Garrett in the tunnels the following morning, as they checked in. "What's wrong?"

"Another day of listening in, Carter. Seems a waste," Boswell muttered under his breath.

"Oh, that's a really important job. You see, we've missed stuff before, because not enough of us can translate properly."

"Yeah, well."

Carter didn't seem to notice Garrett's interruption. He just kept prattling on.

"And that's with Olsen's German lessons. Some people just don't have a knack for languages, you see. Strange, huh? I did. My sister, on the other hand, couldn't tell a French verb from a noun and…" Carter stopped talking and stared at Boswell and Garrett, whose mouths were hanging open in amazement. "Oh, sorry. It's not about me. You're feeling underutilized." Carter's face lit up. "You can help me check detonators."

"We're in espionage, not demolition," Boswell said sullenly. Carter's face fell.

"I can teach you!"

"Can't. I have to go up and wait for the little red light on the percolator to go off." Boswell left while the going was good.

"I have to monitor the phone," Garrett explained.

"No problem," Carter was, as usual, persistent. "I can bring them over."

"Great." Garrett sighed and took his spot by the switchboard.

Another day and night went by with no word from England. Hogan and his band of rescuers were in severe danger of becoming overworked, as the frequent air raids continued to interrupt their beauty sleep. The tunnel now resembled Grand Central Station. Teams continued to venture out, both during the day and night, to continue mapping, planning and demolishing. Tempers began to get short, as this frantic pace continued.

"Klink wants me at dinner." Hogan slammed the door behind him in frustration. "I don't have the time for this nonsense."

"Any particular reason, Colonel?" Kinch was concerned. Normally a dinner invitation meant a visiting big-whig and possibly something useful to steal. Hogan was usually an enthusiastic dinner guest.

"Too much going on. More raids planned. It's just an old friend of Klink's. No one important."

"Didn't know he still had any friends left, sir," Newkirk quipped.

Normally Hogan would have smiled, but today he just wasn't in the mood.

"Why don't we make use of Garrett and Boswell, Colonel?" Kinch suggested. "They're chomping at the bit to get out, and we are shorthanded. Oh, and if you go, we could get that bug installed."

Hogan mulled over the suggestion. He really could use the extra men, although that's not what he told the two agents. He just didn't feel comfortable sending them out. He didn't trust them. That was it. He didn't want to have to worry about two untrained men going out. Hogan stopped thinking for a moment and closed his eyes.

"Colonel?" Kinch snapped him back to attention, "I think after dinner you should stay in and get some rest, sir."

"Garrett and Boswell can go out. Pair both of them with someone experienced. And yes, Kinch. I'll stay in."

Boswell was seated in his usual spot. But tonight, he was monitoring the newly placed bug set up in Klink's quarters.

Hogan arrived for the dinner and quickly placed the receiver in an inconspicuous location. The wiring had been installed during a recent weekend trip Klink had taken out of town.

Klink introduced him to his friend, a Wehrmacht officer. "Major Becker, this is my Senior POW Officer, Colonel Robert Hogan."

Becker quickly glanced at Hogan's medals. "Colonel, I see POW life is treating you reasonably well. You look fairly healthy. "

Klink broke in before Hogan's mouth would get the American in trouble. "Oh, I follow the Geneva Convention. No one is abused. And the prisoners get the appropriate amount of rations and of course, their Red Cross packages. Isn't that right, Hogan?"

Hogan gave Klink a dirty look. "When the guards don't steal them." He then smiled at Becker.

"I see you have a sense of humor. So, inform me of how you managed to get a dress uniform sent to the camp. Unless you jumped in that way?" Becker chuckled.

"I think I'll sit down," Hogan replied.

"How is it going?" Kinch poked his head in to check on the agent.

"So far, so good. No crackling," Boswell reported. "This officer; ever hear of him?"

"Nope. Never. Klink never mentioned him. Last minute trip through the area, I suppose. The colonel is okay?"

"He sounds bored. Why does Klink invite him to these things anyway?" The dinner invitations were one of Hogan's activities that had first aroused the suspicion of Boswell's outfit.

"He realizes the colonel makes him look good, I guess," Kinch laughed. Boswell grinned. "Keep listening for a while, and remember we're heading out at 2300."

That was the scheduled time for tonight's air raid. Boswell was relieved that he and Garrett were getting the go ahead, but he and Garrett had decided that for safety reasons, only one of them would go out.

Hogan was indeed bored, and tired. Becker was as ingratiating a dinner companion as the Kommandant. In other words, dull and self-important.

"It must be a relief for you, Colonel, to be able to dine with your superiors, on occasion. A change in pace and a better variety of food certainly increases your morale," Becker stated.

"What would increase morale, Major, would be better food for the rest of the men in camp," Hogan replied sharply. He glared at the major, while Klink laughed nervously. The major could not keep eye contact, and he turned his attention to his friend.

"I thought you said your Senior POW officer was cowed, Wilhelm?"

Hogan held back a laugh. "Well, it is true, Major Becker, that we haven't been able to figure the Kommandant out. Try to escape and," he snapped his fingers, "Caught. All the time." Hogan shook his head; then stabbed at his salad.

Klink looked gratified. "I do have the respect of all the prisoners, Jurgen."

"That's very good." The major switched the tone of the conversation and the two friends began to reminisce about their past time together, a subject that wore down Hogan's resolve to stay awake.

The colonel found his attention beginning to wander. He began to count the wine stains on the tablecloth, make patterns with the vegetable shavings, and attempted to read the bottom of the china to see where it was made. He glanced at the bookcase, and determined that his vision was still 20/20 by reading the spines of the books on the middle shelf. Finally, after he had all he could take of the two officer's supercilious tales of grandeur, he dipped his middle finger in his water glass, and began to slowly run it along the rim. After several seconds, a high C erupted from the crystal, and the colonel grinned. The music, if you could call it that, interrupted the Germans' conversation and they stared at the now-entertained American officer.

"Colonel Hogan!" Klink shouted. "What are you doing?"

Hogan pretended to be stunned. "Thought a little musical interlude would liven up the evening," he answered.

"Mmmph!" Klink reached over and removed Hogan's water glass. "How juvenile. Really!"

Boswell, hearing all of this, began to laugh. But the conversation soon returned to normal and the agent was again forced to listen to more boring dinner talk, until one interesting thing occurred. Klink dismissed Schultz at dessert, but then the conversation started again and appeared fairly normal. Boswell yawned and held his head in one hand. Then his attention became completely focused as he realized Hogan had not said a word for several minutes.

"Come on," he urged, "Come on. Say something."

Abruptly the conversation switched to German.

"Wait a moment. There," Becker said; then repeated, "There." The sound of a chair moving could be heard.

"Yes. It worked," Klink replied.

"Holy…" Boswell kicked over the chair in his haste to get out of the room.

"What's up?" Mills asked, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"We've got a big problem."

"Did the bug crap out?" Olsen asked.

"No. Something's wrong. Get everyone up here, now!" Boswell barked and then ran back to the office. Goldman ran to the tunnel entrance and scurried down.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Chapter 5  
FUBAR

Chapter five

"Hey! You're all needed up top. Boswell said it's an emergency." Everyone in the tunnel scrambled.

"What's the emergency?" Kinch calmly asked.

"The conversation stopped and then switched to German for no reason. I haven't heard Colonel Hogan's voice for few minutes," Boswell explained. Everyone crowded around the receiver and listened.

"Let's move him, Klink."

The two German officers removed Hogan's jacket and began to drag him over to the couch.

"I really don't think this is right," Klink mumbled. "How could he know anything? He's been here over two years."

The other officer snorted. "He's got to know something. With his rank? I told you, now that the Allies are in France; we need any information, no matter how trivial."

"What if he remembers?"

"He won't. Trust me. And when we get what he knows, and send it to Berlin…"

"Promotions."

"Yes."

"They drugged him! Sacre chat!" LeBeau exclaimed. "That's dirty."

"As soon as he starts to come to," Becker said, "That's when we'll inject the truth serum."

"Hang on, calm down," Kinch quieted everyone.

"Not again!" Carter said. "Oh, he's gonna have a cow."

All heads turned towards Boswell.

"The questions we asked didn't matter, but if this guy is a good interrogator…"

"I'm out of here. Keep listening." Kinch rushed out of the hut and straight into a guard.

"All prisoners confined to barracks. Orders. Back inside, Sergeant."

"It's an emergency. We need the colonel." Kinch didn't budge.

"What kind of emergency?"

"Fight," Kinch raised his voice, "We think we have a… A plant. In our barracks," he said loudly. "Get Schultz, I'll ask him. They'll kill him. Please!" Loud noises could now be heard inside the barracks. The guard stepped around Kinch and opened the door. Chairs were toppled around the room and cards and books lay scattered on the floor. LeBeau and Newkirk were on top of Boswell, while Garrett was trying to fend them off. Fortunately, the guard didn't realize the two were in the wrong barracks. He started to try and pull them apart.

"This is a serious accusation. Stop!"

"Colonel Hogan could stop this with a look," Kinch pleaded.

"You!" the guard shouted to the guard standing outside the door, "Take him to the Kommandant's quarters. Talk to Sergeant Schultz."

Kinch ran. "Schultz, it's an emergency! We need the colonel!" From his peripheral vision, he could see Wilson heading his way.

"Schultz, I heard there was a problem in here." The medic tried to get past the sergeant.

Schultz blocked him. "The Kommandant left explicit instructions not to be disturbed. I bring the dessert and then go stand guard outside, and then, what is the emergency?"

"We had a fight, Schultz," Kinch said. "Huge. Gestapo plant. Our barracks. New prisoners. Terrible."

"Schultz," Wilson again tried to get past the guard, "Someone called for me, I really should check inside. If it's nothing, then what's the harm? Schultz, please."

The guard relented. "All right. You two, come with me."

"You know the score?" Kinch whispered to the medic.

"I got the gist."

"Keep them distracted," Kinch continued. "Just to be safe, I'm removing the bug."

Wilson nodded.

Hogan began to move.

"He's starting to come to," Becker said to Klink.

"Quick! Before he realizes what happened," Klink said.

"Give me his arm." Becker swabbed it, found a vein, and injected the serum. "Now, watch and listen."

"We're too late. Damn!" Newkirk slammed his fist against the wall.

"I can't believe this is happening again." Olsen shook his head.

"He's gonna have a cow," Carter repeated.

"If we're not all shot first," LeBeau muttered under his breath.

Carter turned to the Frenchman. "Kinch is there. He'll get Schultz to let him in."

"Hogan will fight it," Garrett assured everyone. "Have faith."

Meanwhile, back in Klink's quarters, Becker and the now reluctant Kommandant began their questioning. Becker spoke softly into Hogan's ear. "Colonel Hogan. Colonel Hogan?" he said a little louder. There was no response.

Wilson and Kinch, with Schultz lumbering behind them, ran up the steps and opened the door.

"Kommandant, I'm sorry, but they insisted." Schultz stopped when he saw Hogan on the couch. "Oh, you're right. There was a medical emergency. What is wrong with Colonel Hogan?"

Wilson headed for the couch. "What happened?"

"Schultz!"

"Kommandant, there was a fight and…"

"Klink! What is the meaning of this?" Becker, now outraged at the intrusion, swiftly hid the hypodermic needle in a pocket. "It's too late, our plan is ruined," he whispered to Klink.

Wilson was now all business. "Sir?" he tried to wake Hogan up. "He's out cold. What's going on here?"

"He's, uh…" Klink stammered.

Kinch, who had palmed the bug, picked up Hogan's wine glass. It was full. He wondered how they slipped him the knockout drug, and then he switched the full glass with an empty one.

"Could be fatigue, Joe. He mentioned he was feeling out of sorts earlier today. Maybe that and the wine."

"Yes. That must be it," Klink hastily agreed.

"Did he take any medicine today that you know of?" Wilson asked Kinch. "Mixing medicine with wine or combining meds by accident could be dangerous." The medic glared at Klink, who swallowed hard and looked down at the floor.

Kinch shrugged. "I don't know, Wilson."

Wilson took out his stethoscope, opened Hogan's shirt and listened.

Kinch, seeing no reaction from the colonel, was now concerned. "Is he okay?"

"I'd like to get him back to the barracks," Wilson said to Klink.

"He can stay here, Sergeant," Klink, now mad at his old friend, offered.

Wilson quickly turned down Klink's offer. "No, better yet, the infirmary. I can watch him there."

"All right, all right. Schultz, bring back a stretcher."

"I think I should go, Wilhelm." Becker was beginning to head for the door.

"Yes. No, wait."

"Can you see anything?" Carter asked Olsen, who was manning the periscope. Now that Kinch had removed the bug, the men in the barracks had no clue what was going on.

"Schultz left, he's heading for the infirmary," Olsen said. "Oh, brother, he's bringing back a stretcher.

"They combined two medications. Obviously, Klink and his buddy had no clue what they were doing. What a mess. Amateurs." Garrett shook his head.

"Wait. I changed my mind," Wilson quickly announced as he and Kinch were helping to get Hogan off the couch. "The barracks should be okay. No need to move him twice. Thanks, Schultz."

"Schultz, walk them back," Klink grumbled. "Are you sure he'll be all right, Sergeant Wilson?"

"I think he'll be fine."

That could not be said for Becker.

"What were you thinking? You could have killed my senior POW officer. Do you realize how much paperwork that would involve? Not to mention, I actually sort of like the man, sort of, in a manner of speaking."

"I didn't know. I never used this stuff before. Besides, you can't just politely ask your enemy, 'please roll up your sleeve, so we can inject you with truth serum,' now, can you?"

"No, but…"

"You like the guy?"

"Yes and no. He's the enemy, but he seems decent enough. And he keeps his men under control. I'll give him that." Klink shook his fist at his friend. Former friend, he decided.

"How is he? What happened?" The concerned residents of Barracks two plus Boswell and Garrett barraged Wilson and Kinch with questions as they brought the colonel in. They moved him onto his lower bunk.

"Combination of a quick acting sedative, not sure what, and sodium pentathol. I couldn't wake him. They wouldn't have been able to get him to give his name, rank and serial number, much less military information. Idiots!" Wilson removed Hogan's shoes.

"'Ow long do you think he'll be out?" Newkirk asked the medic.

"Hard to say." Wilson started a thorough exam. "They may have even screwed up the dosage for all we know. Oh, it's you two," Wilson said with some scorn, as Boswell and Garrett made their way over to the bunk.

"I feel kind of bad about this. Second time in less than four months." Garrett tsked; then backed away.

"His breathing is speeding up a tad," Wilson told the men. "He should be coming around soon. Boy is he going to be angry."

"Well, Wilson," Kinch cracked, "He said he was tired and that he was going to take tonight off."

"That's a given, now," Wilson commented. "Colonel, wake up." He shook Hogan's shoulder a few times, waited, and then tried again. "Come on."

Hogan was now trapped in the delicious state that existed between REM sleep and waking. He didn't feel like getting up, and why should he? He was too comfortable. Almost cozy. But someone was trying to wrest him out of it and ruin his morning. He wanted to go back, deeper. Hogan attempted to roll over. "Mom, five more minutes, please," he mumbled.

"Oy, did you 'ear that?" Newkirk chuckled. "'E thinks Wilson's his mum."

Wilson pushed the colonel back down flat, and shook him again. "Colonel Hogan," he said firmly, "It's time to get up." Hogan's eyes opened a slit, closed; and then opened again. He lay there, trying to remember where he was and attempting to focus on the man who was leaning over him.

"Wilson?"

"Don't sit up yet." Wilson had his hand on Hogan's chest. "You're in your barracks. Everyone, step back. Give him some air."

"Wilson? How did I get here? I wasn't sick. Was I sick? Ooh. I don't feel so hot."

"Queasy?" Wilson checked Hogan's pupils.

"Yeah. And dizzy."

"I'll let Kinch explain. First, let's see if you can sit up." With the medic's help, Hogan slowly rolled over and sat on the edge of the bunk.

"Here, drink some water." Wilson handed Hogan a glass.

Hogan looked up at Kinch and the rest of the men who were crowded around the door. "Well?"

"What's the last thing you remember, sir?" Kinch asked him.

"Trying not to be bored to death by those two blowhards reminiscing about some inane training course, and then Becker asked me the usual, 'How are they treating you?' questions. Why?"

"What was the last thing you ate?" Wilson broke in.

"Some apple torte, I think. LeBeau, yours is much better."

LeBeau beamed. "Merci, mon Colonel."

"Who served it?" Kinch asked.

"Schultz," Hogan replied. "No, he didn't. He brought it in. Klink cut it and then served…"

"You were drugged," Kinch told him.

It took several moments for Hogan's still addled brain to compute that revelation. He finally said. "You're joking."

"Wish I was," Kinch said. "A quick acting sedative, Colonel. And then those two bozos moved you onto the couch, waited for it to start to wear off, and then in some stupid attempt to get information.…"

"Wait. You're joking."

"Wish I was, sir," Kinch repeated. "They gave you truth serum." Without thinking, everyone in the room held in their breath and took a step back.

"Again!" Hogan shouted. "Oh, my head. The bug! You heard this. What did I say?"

"Nothing," Wilson assured him. "You were unconscious by the time we got there."

Hogan took another sip of water. "How did you know something had happened, Kinch?"

"Boswell was checking the bug to make sure it was working."

"I heard the conversation switch to German, and you were silent for several minutes, plus their narrative. Put two and two together. Called everyone up."

"Thanks." Hogan gave Boswell a nod.

"Don't mention it. But Kinch convinced the guard to let him go over there. Some story about us being plants, and a fight."

"I slipped into the tunnels and got Wilson, sir," Garth proudly reported. "I told him what happened."

"Kinch and I showed up at the same time," Wilson continued. "We barged in. I gave them a song and dance about too much wine and you feeling sick."

"I switched the wine glasses," Kinch added.

"We've got an hour until the raid," Olsen reminded everyone.

"Looks like it was a group effort. Great job everyone. So, I know what those two numbskulls did, but Klink doesn't know that I know." Hogan grinned and then yawned.

Wilson smiled. "Yes, that's true. Go to bed, Colonel. You'll be fine. Just drink a lot of extra water."

"No coffee," Hogan grumbled.

"You remember!" Wilson joked. "No coffee."

Hogan muttered something nasty that he didn't really mean about Wilson's bedside manner, lay down, rolled over and quickly fell back asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Chapter 6  
FUBAR

Chapter six

"Um, I think I overstayed my welcome, Wilhelm." Berger began to back out of Klink's quarters.

"Schultz!" Klink yelled for the sergeant, who had returned. "Get the major's coat."

Klink, now nursing a tension headache, was seated on the sofa. The table had not been cleared and Hogan's half-eaten apple torte was still on his plate. Klink waited for Becker to leave and then called over the sergeant. "Go check on Hogan's condition and then come right back. Wait. I gave explicit instructions not to be disturbed. There better be a good explanation for how both Sergeant Kinchloe and the medic showed up at the same time."

"There was a fight in the barracks. The prisoners thought there was a plant. One of the new prisoners, Kommandant."

"New prisoners? There are no new prisoners in that barracks. Hogan moved them."

"It was Boswell, Kommandant."

Klink was very confused. First a huge fight in the barracks over a suspected German plant, and then the medic shows up. "I didn't call for the medic," he insisted.

Obviously, Schultz thought. Hogan's men did. "Well someone did, Kommandant, and he came."

"He came. I must've call for the medic." Klink waved off the confusion. "Get out."

Almost every time I'm involved in a plot to get information, Klink realized, something goes wrong. And Colonel Hogan is in the middle of it. Propaganda radio broadcasts. He makes a fool of the British woman. More propaganda broadcasts. Recordings go up in smoke. A German plant sent to camp and made a fool of. A nasty by-the-book sergeant. Wait, no, I wanted him out as well. Cat fights between female Gestapo agents, a vacuum cleaner instead of a bomb site... I have to stay out of the espionage business, Klink concluded as he walked into the bathroom to get some aspirin.

He then mulled over what Schultz had told him about the fight in Barracks two. The prisoners accused another newer prisoner, one of those privates that showed up several weeks ago, Klink recalled, of being a plant. A seed of suspicion was now germinating in Klink's brain. A plant? Could it possibly be true? Hogan had reacted very strangely when those two had arrived. He even transferred the men out, just to keep the two in his barracks. Why? To keep an eye on them; obviously, and then he transferred them back. But, why wasn't I told? Because it's the Gestapo and Hochstetter hates me. Actually, the feeling is mutual, Klink decided. Are they after me? Klink began to get paranoid. Can't be, he convinced himself. I have a perfect record. No, the plants are looking for Allied information. He was sure of it. Why not? We're going to need all the help we can get, now that the Allies were marching across the continent. Klink's thoughts were interrupted by Schultz, who came in to report on Hogan's condition.

"The medic reports that Colonel Hogan is recovering and resting comfortably, Kommandant."

Klink was relieved. "Schultz, I'm going to bed. Clean up this mess."

Six rescued flyers were successfully brought back to camp that night. As a reward for the rapt attention paid to the dinner party, Boswell was elected to go out with the team, while Garrett stayed behind in case of a radio transmission. Hogan got a good night's rest and everyone woke up the next morning in a more chipper mood. That was, until Klink requested the presence of two privates in his office the following morning.

"How are you feeling this morning, Colonel Hogan? Better, I hope."

"Yes, sir. Nothing a good night's sleep couldn't cure. I took something for a headache and something for a cold and then I drank the wine. Mixing drugs and alcohol. Not good." Hogan was glad to see Klink flinch.

"I'm glad you are feeling better." Klink swallowed, and then pointed to the door. "Now leave, I didn't send for you. It's them I wish to speak with. Privates, sit down."

Hogan protested. "Kommandant, I have a right to be here as the prisoners' representative."

"Out!" Klink again pointed to the door.

"I don't think I'm feeling so well."

"Hogan, out, or I'll revoke all privileges."

"I…" Hogan gave up and walked out.

Klink looked at the two bewildered agents. "So, gentlemen, I understand you were involved in the fight last night in Barracks two?"

"Yes, sir," Boswell said cautiously. "We were accused of being plants. It's not true, sir."

"No, of course not." Klink, his voice now at a higher pitch, took on a conspiratorial tone. "Preposterous. Out of the question. If you have a problem like this again, you can report it to me, and I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, sir," Garrett answered.

"You're welcome. And remember, my door is always open." Klink responded in German.

Boswell and Garrett stared blankly ahead.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Klink laughed. "Don't know what came over me." He repeated the previous sentence in English, got up and opened the door. Boswell and Garrett left the building.

"He thinks we're plants, Colonel." Garrett told Hogan a few minutes later.

"I know. We heard the tail end of the conversation." Hogan looked amused. "That's better than the alternative. I was afraid he might have finally recognized you two, after all these months, but as usual, you can't overestimate our Kommandant." Hogan, who for once was paying attention to Wilson, took a sip of the water he was drinking. "Let it go. Let's see how it plays out."

"Colonel," Olsen poked his head out of Hogan's office. "Klink is calling Hochstetter."

Hogan sighed. "Oh, great." He went back into his office.

"Who is Hochstetter?" Garrett, who had followed Hogan, asked.

"The local Gestapo chief," Hogan replied. "Blames me for everything from blowing up bridges to the mass extinction of the dinosaurs." Hogan and the two agents joined everyone else who had crowded around the coffee pot.

"I made contact with them, Major, but I did not let them know I knew they were your men and their secret is safe with me and you have my cooperation," Klink said in one breath.

" Klink! You're talking gibberish."

"Gibberish. Yes, Major. I understand."

"I don't. Why don't you try explaining it to me one more time." Hochstetter rolled his eyes and popped an antacid.

"I discovered who the plants were. That you sent here as prisoners, a few weeks ago."

"I didn't send anyone, Klink. And what proof do you have that these two…"

"Privates."

"Are plants?"

"Well. I…"

"Klink. If they are plants, they'll deal with things on their own. If they aren't, you deal with them. I'm too busy for this nonsense."

Hochstetter slammed down the phone, which only served to make Klink more paranoid.

"Either he's lying, and these plants are from the Gestapo to get information from the prisoners, or they are here to get information about me." Klink, now feeling a bit shaky, poured himself a drink and yelled for his aide.

"You two have overstayed your welcome."

"But, Colonel, our mission!"

"Colonel, Garrett's right. Our orders were to wait here for instructions. A mission so crucial we couldn't take the chance of it being in our heads if we were caught."

"Sorry. You've now attracted attention, and I can't take the chance of Hochstetter indulging Klink's fantasies and showing up here to question you two. He's not as dumb as Klink is."

"We can handle a Gestapo agent, Colonel."

Hogan wasn't paying attention to their protests. "I'll be arranging for a transfer to another camp for both of you. We'll have the truck ambushed, you'll come back here and then we'll get you out." Hogan opened the door leading to the common room. "Go back to your barracks and stay there until you hear from one of us, and don't do anything to draw attention."

"But the radio, Colonel…"

"We'll monitor the transmissions. If something comes through before you leave, we'll change the plans."

"This is not good," Garrett observed, as he and Boswell walked across the compound.

"This whole mission has been a mess. Oh, and Schultz is following us. Klink must have sent him to spy on us." Boswell pointed to the guard who was unsuccessfully tailing the two agents. "You'd think Klink would use someone who took up less space."

"Wonderful." Garrett held his stomach and grimaced.

"You okay, buddy?"

"I need an antacid," Garrett complained.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Chapter 7  
Fubar

Chapter 7

"But, Colonel!" Boswell protested to no avail. After the previous day's calamity, in which they attracted the attention of the Kommandant and possibly the Gestapo, the two OSS agents were demoralized, frustrated and more than annoyed. They felt that they were not being treated appropriately, considering their experience.

"Do I need to send you two with an escort?" Hogan was now getting angry.

"No, sir." The two men, defeated and seething, obeyed and meekly left the barracks.

Schultz wasn't the only one following the two agents the rest of that day and the next, during their trips to the latrine and mess hall. They were now constantly tailed by other prisoners, most likely assigned by their barrack's chiefs, who had been brought up to speed by Hogan's staff. And to make matters even worse, Klink had assigned two guards to follow them all over the place.

The Germans tailing them were quickly noticed by the set of allied prisoners tailing them, who were, of course, noticed by the two spies, who felt that they had somehow fallen down a rabbit hole.

Being assigned to separate barracks, Boswell and Garrett barely saw each other. Every time they tried to connect during an exercise period, someone or something would get in the way. Finally, after three days of this nonsense, they had both had enough and were willing to face Hogan's wrath. Once they managed to find themselves in the latrines at the same time, they silently signaled to each other and headed over to Hogan's barracks.

Followed by their assigned tails, two guards and two American corporals, they attempted to barrel through the door. The guards and the corporals stood back and waited.

LeBeau opened the door, letting Boswell and Garrett fall clumsily into the room. "Saw you coming. Colonel Hogan is in his office." LeBeau pointed. "He's in a bad mood," he warned them.

"Well now." Hogan stared down at the two, who had been told to sit and shut up. "Hochstetter's on his way. Seems Klink is suspicious and paranoid."

"Klink is harmless," Boswell grunted.

"Harmless? Where do you think we are, Boswell? A training camp? Klink is out for number one. And he is easily manipulated. But if there is a higher authority figure to back him up or give orders, he usually caves. And he's still German, and he's not a pacifist. He's turned his own countrymen over to the SS or Gestapo. Look what he agreed to do to me a few nights ago! He's knowingly agreed to turn someone he thought was a British officer over to the Gestapo to be conveniently eliminated!" (1) Hogan waited for a reaction.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't…" Garrett stammered.

"He's a scared animal," Hogan said quietly, "And they're dangerous when cornered. I could have you both thrown into the cooler for insubordination. I could have Wilson drug you into oblivion. Now, I have Hochstetter coming. So much for a staged transfer," Hogan thought out loud, and continued with his tirade."Where do you think we are? A country club?"

"Well, Colonel, that's what we actually thought, when we were sent…"

You could now hear a pin drop. "Oops." Garrett, the offender, and his cohort, started backing away.

"We'll be going now?" Boswell asked.

"Get out." Hogan turned, deliberately ignoring the two.

"Hold on! What do you want from us, sir? We didn't ask to get assigned here, you know." Garrett, who was normally the calm one, was now determined to defend his honor. His voice became dangerously raised.

"Watch your tone with me Garrett! And I wasn't asked about you either," Hogan retorted. "And who knew your handlers could be so uncoordinated, again, and send you out here weeks in advance. This isn't a chain of hotels, where you can just pay and then check in and out. Military intelligence. Like I've said before, it's an oxymoron!"

"Boy. Hope they don't start getting physical." The men of barracks two could hear the raised voices. LeBeau tsked and shook his head. "And they seemed to be getting along."

"They've been noticed, remember?" Olsen pointed out. "Now Colonel Hogan's perceived them as a threat to the operation, and to us."

The three weren't done with the argument. "Oh, look who's talking! Special operations. It's their fault we were sent here on a wild goose chase and almost had you gift-wrapped and sent back to England for a court-martial," Boswell nicely pointed out.

"Their fault? Ha! Their fault?" Hogan answered. "Your bunch of bozos didn't investigate properly. I could have been killed!"

"Come on, Colonel," Garrett stepped in between the two. "We told you we wouldn't have done that."

"I think we should be going." Boswell grabbed his partner's arm.

Hogan stopped them. "You both may have a chance to put on your spy hats if Hochstetter decides to conduct an interrogation."

"He wouldn't."

"He's never dragged anyone out of here, yet. Threatened to, but no. And Klink has to be there. Unless Hochstetter has proof we're not real prisoners. Come in," Hogan said to the tentative knock he heard at the door.

"Sorry, sir." Carter, who looked happy, poked his head in. "We intercepted one of your messages." He looked at Boswell and Garrett. "It said to standby for instructions tonight at midnight."

"Finally!" Garrett exclaimed. "Back to business." He high-fived his partner.

"Come down to the tunnels after lights out. Use your barrack's tunnel entrance." Hogan, who was relieved at the turn of events, felt his mood improve.

"What about Hochstetter, Colonel?"

"We'll play it by ear."

Klink, his crop under his arm, scurried out to the car and greeted the annoyed Gestapo major.

"Major Hochstetter," Klink groveled. "What a pleasure."

"You asked me to come, Klink." The major stomped up the stairs.

"You're correct." Klink opened his office door and followed behind Hochstetter.

"Get on with it. I'm busy."

"Busy. Yes, I'm sure you are. It's about the spies."

"Spies?"

"Two privates came into camp three weeks ago, Major. And from the very beginning, there was something odd about them."

Well, you should know odd when you see it. You're odd. "Your definition of odd, Klink, is what?" Hochstetter walked behind the desk and stared at the map. Klink turned around.

"It was Hogan. His reaction."

"Really?" Hochstetter turned and faced Klink. "And what was his reaction?"

"He was, he was... How can I describe it?"

"Try." Hochstetter studied his fingernails.

"He was acting like an officer. Yes, that's it." Klink nodded his head. Major?" Hochstetter was silent.

"I wasn't aware Hogan was an officer. Oh, wait. Klink. Those wings on his collar. Klink, you're wasting my time!"

"There's more. He made them do pushups. And then put them in his barracks to keep an eye on them. See, he must've had his suspicions from the time they showed up. Why else pay so much attention to two privates?" Klink removed two files off of his desk and held them out.

I might as well humor him to get this over with. "Klink, I know for a fact, the Gestapo didn't send anyone in, but I'll look at the files."

"Thank you, Major, I…"

The door swung open. "Kommandant, I really need to talk to you. Oh, hello, Major," Hogan said pleasantly. "Sir, I know it's not usually my place to request transfers, but…"

"What is this man doing here?"

"Hogan, how did you get in?" Klink looked at the now empty office. "Where's the guard?"

"What is this man doing here?"

"Hogan, can't you see I'm busy?"

"Truthfully, Kommandant, as I said… Oh, can I sit down? Thanks." Hogan plopped himself in a chair. "To tell you the truth, I'm still not feeling so hot, after the other night. Did you eat the torte? The dessert didn't agree with me, Major Hochstetter."

"About this transfer, Hogan. Go ahead, explain." Hochstetter's interest was now piqued.

"Two privates came in a few weeks ago," Hogan explained. "They're big trouble. We've already had a fight. I put them in my barracks to start out with to keep an eye on them. You see, I knew about them already, before I was…"

"Shot down?" Hochstetter said.

"Yeah."

"You see, Major?" Klink said triumphantly, "I told you!"

"Told you what, Major?" Hogan asked.

He thinks they're plants."

"Plants! You're joking!" Hogan laughed. "You're not joking," Hogan whispered to Klink. "Sir, your perfect record; I can't guarantee it will stay that way, if you catch my drift."

Hochstetter interrupted. "Why should Klink transfer two prisoners and pass off the problem to someone else?"

"Yes, Hogan. Why?" Klink asked.

"Before I answer that, I forgot. There was another reason I came." Hogan paused for effect. "Rumor control."

"What rumor?" Klink asked nervously. "What now?"

"Nasty." Hogan stood up. "Unauthorized interrogations being conducted on POWs in the Stalags. Use of new interrogation techniques. Drugs, etc. and so forth," Hogan said casually. "Makes the men nervous. Just need to put these things to rest. Now, this transfer, Boswell and Garrett… Oh, look there!" Hogan feigned surprise. "The files are right here."

"I'll see if I can send them to Stalag nine, Hogan."

"Just like that, Klink?" Hochstetter, who had been watching this with interest, was left wondering why Klink had caved. "About this rumor, Colonel Hogan?"

"Yes, Major. If it's true, it's against the Geneva Convention, and when the Red Cross comes for the next inspection, they may want to check it out. Anyway, thanks Kommandant. I'll be glad to get them out of here. Major," Hogan tipped his cap and walked out.

"Fascinating," Hochstetter mentioned to Klink, who had already pulled out the transfer papers and was about to place a call, which would be conveniently intercepted.

"You see, Major," Klink waved his finger at Hochstetter, "I told you. Even Hogan has his suspicions and he wants them out of here."

"Klink. This has been a complete waste of time. Although, I am interested in this rumor. If Hogan is correct, I should have known about these interrogations and experiments. They may be useful." Hochstetter made a mental note to investigate and left.

"Hochstetter's gone, Colonel," Olsen reported.

"About time. That's one headache taken care of. Klink's call to Stalag nine was intercepted by us," Hogan explained to Boswell and Garrett. "They nicely offered to come pick you up in one of their trucks, which will be driven by an Underground agent and two of our men. After you leave, you'll be coming back in through the tunnel and, ta-da! You're no longer any concern to the German POW system."

"Smooth, Colonel. Very smooth," Garrett said with admiration.

"Sounds better than an ambush," Boswell offered.

"Yeah, well. I use Klink's stupidity against him and there's always a risk with an ambush."

"Why, Colonel, I didn't know you cared," Garrett cracked.

"So long, Schultz." Both Boswell and Garrett waved to the sergeant.

Schultz, who was processing them when the truck pulled up, saw no signs of strife, insubordination, or hostility between the two privates and the other prisoners. Figuring the transfer was part of another one of Hogan's schemes; he kept quiet, said a quick farewell to the two privates and reported to Klink that the transfer was complete.

(1) There were several examples of Klink turning over other Germans to the Gestapo and SS. Think about the plant in the pilot, or Sergeant Franks. And, in "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London," Klink knew that the real Roberts was to be eliminated. Klink also had no trouble trying to get information out of Hogan, via the use of bugs.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Chapter 8  
FUBAR

Chapter 8

"We're moving out tomorrow night, Colonel," Boswell reported. "Our instructions are to meet a crucial contact, and that's all we can tell you for now."

"For now?" Hogan didn't like the sound of that.

"Depending on what happens after that, we may or may not be back here to arrange for a pick up."

"Figures," Hogan sighed. "Go ahead. You can rest up down here. Just stay out of the way, it's crowded." Five fliers were waiting to be processed.

There were mixed feelings when Boswell and Garrett left the tunnels the next evening. An unspoken concern for their safety, combined with relief, was the order of the day.

"They really weren't bad guys, you know, fellas," Carter offered his opinion while checking over a luger that the colonel would be carrying with him on that night's mission.

"You always see the best in everyone, Andrew."

"Well, Peter. We are on the same side."

"True. But when those two show up, trouble follows. Mark my words."

"Any updates, Kinch? Oh, thanks, Carter," Hogan who was dressed in black, said, taking the pistol from Carter's outstretched hand.

"There's a raid scheduled later tonight, but you have plenty of time to get back."

"The meeting shouldn't take long," Hogan reminded his men.

Newkirk, always the worrywart, offered himself as backup.

Hogan insisted on going alone, as per London's orders. He left the tunnel and set off.

"I hate it when he goes on these solo missions," Newkirk grumbled. That was something the men left behind could agree on.

It was a bomber's moon that evening. The air was still, and a slight chill portended the upcoming cooler months. In his dreams, Hogan was still flying missions over German territory, and now he occasionally and wistfully gazed at the sky as he walked towards the meeting place. As he got closer to the prearranged spot, the colonel slowed down. London's orders, which were for his eyes only, were explicit. Get the information, get out, and wait for immediate pickup by a courier plane to take him and the information to Allied Territory in France. Hopefully, this will shorten the war, Hogan thought as he took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. He crouched down in the brush and waited.

Boswell and Garrett were also on the way to their meeting with an important contact. Both agents were to arrange for duplicate copies of the plans being turned over to the Allies. Then they would each make separate trips back to France, increasing the odds that at least one would get through. After reaching the meeting point, the two men drew their weapons, concealed themselves behind some boulders and watched and listened.

"Shh," Boswell mouthed to Garrett. He signaled he had heard something, and then stopped; false alarm. He signaled again. Garrett nodded and they both continued their vigil.

After an hour, Hogan decided his contact was a no show. He had to move to get back to camp in order to avoid the air raid which was scheduled to begin in a few hours. Disappointed at the failure of the mission, but also concerned that the contact had been caught, he decided the best thing to do was to get out of the area as soon as possible. "This better not be a trap," he muttered to himself as he extricated himself from the brush. Checking to see that the coast was clear, Hogan stretched his sore muscles and started to move.

Boswell and Garrett were having more success than the colonel. About to give up, they heard another sound, and spied a figure several hundred yards away.

"That's him," Garrett, who had the better view, signaled to Boswell. They waited, still not showing themselves, until the man got closer.

Hogan stopped dead in his tracks. He could have sworn he'd heard some motion. His first thought was that it was an animal, but he was now certain that the noise was made by a human. Drawing the luger, he crouched down closer to the ground. "A ship in the harbor is safe," he said softly.

"That's our line," Boswell looked over at Garrett.

"A ship in the harbor is safe," Hogan repeated.

"How can this guy mix up something so important?" But Boswell decided to take a chance. "But that's not what it's built for." (1)

Hogan, with his gun drawn, came out into the open.

Boswell and Garrett, their weapons out as well, approached.

"What the…?" Hogan almost dropped his gun.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Garrett yelled.

"All right, either someone is playing a really big practical joke, or there's been a big mix-up," Hogan stated. "And let's get out of the open. And put your damn guns down!"

Boswell and Garrett lowered their weapons.

"Looks like we all were sent to meet the same contact, Colonel." Boswell stated the obvious.

"On purpose or by accident?" Hogan, who was now in a state of utter exasperation, replied.

"Beats me," Boswell shrugged, "But he's not here, obviously. How long you been waiting?"

"An hour," Hogan replied. "You?"

"About the same." Garrett stood up, checked around and then crouched down. "Guess we're out of here. This was a make or break situation."

"Same with me," Hogan said. He got up off the ground and started walking. "I'm heading back to camp." He looked at the two agents. "Um, you two got other plans?"

"Not now." Boswell followed and Garrett picked up the rear. No one said anything for about a quarter of a mile, until a dull drone could be heard in the distance.

"That can't be right," Hogan said softly. He turned on his flashlight and looked at his watch. "Too early," he mumbled.

"Not right? What's not right?" Boswell asked nervously.

"Look." Hogan pointed. Headed directly towards them was a large group of American bombers. "Run!" Hogan screamed. The sky suddenly lit up with a barrage of antiaircraft fire.

The guys back in the camp heard the drone of the planes as well. Dust started flying from the ceiling as the bombs began to fall.

Kinch cursed as he caught his equipment before it hit the ground.

"There wasn't supposed to be a raid for another two hours!" Newkirk yelled above the din, as everyone tried to batten down the hatches. "Colonel Hogan's still out there!"

"It was a quick exchange of plans. He should be back soon." Kinch looked at his watch.

"Boswell and Garrett are also out there," Carter, returning from his workshop, noted as he wiped some dirt out of his hair.

"They're probably long gone," Kinch reassured the sergeant. "Everyone up top," he warned.

Hogan, Boswell, and Garrett, in danger of getting caught in a storm of flak, shells, shrapnel and railroad ties, were still running, with Hogan leading the way. Several times, concussions would send the three tumbling off their feet, but they quickly righted themselves, and continued heading pell-mell through the forest. Where to, Boswell and Garrett didn't know.

They just blindly followed Hogan, who was more familiar with the terrain. Suddenly, a bomb missed its mark, and exploded. Hogan, who had the wind knocked out of him, lay still for a moment, then regained his senses. Boswell, already on his feet, saw that Garrett was face- down on the ground.

"Mitch!" Boswell threw himself down and crawled over to his partner. Hogan was right behind him.

"Ouch."

"You're not dead," Boswell said with relief.

"Roll him over." Hogan took a hold of Garrett's side and gently moved him, while Boswell helped. Garrett's abdomen was bleeding. "We can't stay here, we'll be flattened. Can you stand?"Hogan asked.

"Don't know, Colonel," Garrett groaned. Hogan and Boswell helped him onto his feet. Garrett momentarily saw stars and almost collapsed.

"Come on," Hogan and Boswell grabbed Garrett under his arms, "This way." Hogan turned. "There's a cave we use for a hideout. That's where we're heading." Despite Garrett's pain, the three made good time; most likely due to the sheer terror caused by the cacophony of bombs and shells still flying all around them. They propped the injured man against the wall. "We have supplies in the back." Hogan walked further in, while Boswell examined Garrett's wounds.

"Oh, great. What else could possibly go wrong?" Hogan, who could barely hear himself think over the bombs, booms and blasts, found the storage area to be ransacked. The tins of food were gone. Hogan climbed over the mess. The lanterns, kerosene and flashlights were also missing. Hogan figured civilians, possibly children, were the scavengers. It wasn't the first time this had happened. He picked up some blankets and a box of basic first aid supplies. Definitely kids, he figured. They hadn't looked far or high enough to find several bottles of hard liquor that someone – Olsen or LeBeau, Hogan guessed – had stored up on a natural shelf. "What's the story?" Hogan yelled at Boswell when he headed back towards the front of the cave.

"Not fatal, Colonel, but we need to clean out the shrapnel before the pieces move or the wounds get infected."

"I think we should move in deeper," Garrett grimaced.

"He's right." Hogan grabbed the wounded agent and with Boswell's assistance carried Garrett further into the cave. Hogan then ran back to the supplies, and returned with the bottles of liquor.

"Colonel, if you hold your flashlight, I can try and clean this out. What do you have that's sterile?" Boswell asked.

Before Hogan could answer, all three men heard the telltale whistle.

"Incoming!" Hogan shouted. He and Boswell threw themselves over Garrett as the bomb exploded.

(1) William Shedd


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Chapter 9  
FUBAR

Chapter nine

"That was close!" Hogan's hands were shaking.

"Colonel, look." Boswell pointed to the mouth of the cave, which was now filled with rocks, dirt and debris.

"Are we dead?" Garrett moaned.

"No," Hogan replied, "I think it's over."

"At least we weren't killed by our own weapons." Garrett moaned again.

Boswell looked up to Hogan. "Any morphine in there?"

Hogan shook his head. "It's just basic supplies."

"Here, Mitch. Drink some of this." Boswell passed Garrett the whiskey.

"I don't want…"

"Drink it!" Boswell ordered. Garrett meekly obeyed.

"What now?" Boswell asked Hogan who had moved forward to examine the debris.

Hogan ran his hand through his hair. "One thing at a time," he whispered. "Once I don't show up in camp, they'll send out a search party. My men knew where the meeting place was. I hope, anyway, or we'll be digging for a while." Hogan took another bottle of liquor, and poured it over some of the tools he had scrounged from the first aid kit.

"Mitch, take another swig."

"I'm fine, Todd. This can wait."

"Sorry, buddy. Here, bite down on this." Boswell stuffed a rolled up handkerchief in Garrett's mouth. "I'll start cleaning this out. Colonel, if you can hold him down?"

The next few minutes were unpleasant to say the least. So far, Hogan and his team back at camp had mercifully escaped serious injury, but Hogan was unfortunately used to seeing serious injuries firsthand; from crashes, machine guns, and shrapnel that had penetrated his plane. The two somehow managed to work together to remove what they could see and bandage up the wounds. The ordeal left the two amateur medics a sweaty mess and a patient who had passed out.

"We need to get back to camp," Hogan said in between deep breaths, "Soon. Sorry if that's not where you were heading." He walked over to the mound of debris and started digging with his hands. Boswell followed.

"It doesn't matter now. Care to tell me why you were meeting our contact, Hogan?" Boswell groaned as he attempted to move a large boulder blocking part of the entrance.

"It was my contact, Boswell." Hogan joined the agent; but the boulder wouldn't budge.

"I believe I got the call first," Boswell retorted. He gave up on the boulder and started removing small stones, throwing them haphazardly behind him.

"Guys, stop arguing, please," Garrett, who had come to, pleaded. "Looks like one hand…"

"Didn't know what the other was doing. Again." Boswell completed Garrett's sentence.

"No, I don't think so. I believe..." Hogan got up, took another blanket and threw it to Boswell. "Put this over you. It's damp. I believe it may have been an insurance policy."

"That makes some sense, I suppose. What were your orders?"

Hogan pondered Boswell's question and decided to come clean.

"Get the plans and return to camp. Make immediate contact and then catch a secret flight to Allied headquarters in France. After that, I assume they were going to drop me back in. You?"

"We were supposed to split up. Double the chance of one of us getting out."

"Any idea what the plans were?" Hogan asked.

"Nope. Could have been a weapon. But my bet was for a last gasp counteroffensive."

"Damn." Hogan was upset. "I think that bet was a good one. He must've been caught."

"At least it was before we got there," Boswell pointed out. "Hey, you with me, buddy? Open your eyes." He poked Garrett, who grunted. "We weren't supposed to be taken alive."

"Nice thought." Hogan turned off the flashlight to save the battery. The three men, now dejected at the failure of their mission, leaned up against the wall and wallowed in their collective misery.

Back at the stalag, the men, who had waited long enough for Hogan's return, were already starting to organize search parties for both their commander and downed flyers. Armed with walkie-talkies and Hogan's last known position, eight men sent out in four teams and headed out, picking up several airmen on the way. The teams, now reduced to six men, continued.

"This is the place." Newkirk and Olsen, along with Carter, LeBeau, Baker, and Mills reached the meeting spot.

"Looks like this area got hammered." Carter, who was examining the ground, pointed to a spot. The men fanned out for a quick search of the area, then met up again in the center.

"There's some brush and twigs here that have been crushed." Mills shone his flashlight on a section.

"He could have run; probably with the contact," Newkirk guessed. "Olsen?"

"We'll follow it," the sergeant decided. "We'll head towards some of our hiding places. He may have gone that way on purpose."

Boswell and Hogan, with Garrett in between them, huddled together to keep warm, as the dampness of the cave began to chill their bones. Occasionally, Hogan would flick a lighter to check the time; then close it to save fuel. He was debating whether or not to continue digging out by hand, when he felt Garrett begin to shiver. Hogan reached over and tapped Boswell.

"Hey. He's getting colder or feverish. Not sure which."

Boswell placed his blanket on his partner.

"Put it back on," Hogan ordered. "Don't need you getting sick."

Boswell turned on the flashlight. Hogan saw him stare at the bottles of whiskey. "You think your men are coming?"

Hogan shrugged. "Not sure. But they know the cave is here. They'll probably go to the meeting spot, and hopefully see the tracks; if the tracks weren't blown to smithereens."

"Then one swig won't hurt?"

"One swig? No. It will warm us up."

"Fair enough." Boswell opened the bottle and took a drink. He passed it to Hogan, who first gave a sip to Garrett.

"You know," Hogan said, about an hour later. He started feeling around for his pockets. "I always have a bar of chocolate in here, somewhere." He patted his shirt; then got confused.

"For Schultz?" Boswell blurted out.

"Yup. Oh," the colonel's face fell.

"You ate it already," Boswell accused him.

"Not wearing a uniform." Hogan was dressed in his black camouflage outfit.

"Too bad," Garrett piped up.

"How…how you feeling, Mitch?" Boswell slurred.

"Not too hot. My side hurts like hell."

"Wilson will fix you up," Hogan said.

"He hates me."

"Us," Boswell interjected.

"Not true. You," Hogan poked Boswell, "You saved me from the sodium pant… sodium pent… Saved me from the truth serum. Anyway, I'll order him to fix you up," Hogan said emphatically.

Boswell laughed. "I didn't know he followed your orders." That got Garrett laughing.

"Shnot funny. What is this stuff anyway?" Hogan glanced at the bottle he and Boswell had drained. "Hmm?"

"Hmm?" Boswell was beginning to nod off.

"Wake up." Hogan shook Boswell and then looked at the label on the bottle. "Let's see. Not a good year. 1938."

"Very bad year," Boswell repeated and then hiccupped.

"So, how did you to get schtarted in the spy business, anyways?" Hogan asked Boswell.

"Diplomatic corp. Schtationed in Berlin in the thirties."

"UGH."

"Yup. Didn't like what we saw and got, got, got…"

"Recruited," Garrett who wasn't as tipsy as the other two, added helpfully.

"Now, it's only fair, Rob." Boswell reached over and poked Hogan. "How did you get schtarted in the spy business?"

"Wright Brothers," Hogan answered, ignoring use of his first name. He then pursed his lips together and made the sound of a propeller, while at the same time drawing circles in the air with his hand.

"No. Really?"

"You know, this stuff is as bad as some moonshine I had back when I was 17. What was the question?"

"How did you get started in the spy business?"

"Got shot down over Hamburg and that's all she wrote."

"Not telling."

"Nope."

Boswell started laughing. "I still can't believe Klink thought we were plants." He got up, stumbled, and made another attempt at moving the boulder. He gave up and started digging again.

Hogan stopped him. "Don't waste your strength."

"Well, aren't you the optimist." Boswell sat back down and threw the blanket over his shoulders.

The men in the search party approached the cave entrance about a half hour later.

"Oh, will you look at that! Oh man," Carter cried out when he shone his flashlight and saw the debris.

"Do you think he's in there?" Mills asked.

"One way to find out." LeBeau walked up to the mound. "I think I may be able to shimmy my way in. Give me a boost."

Moments later, Hogan thought he heard rustling and movement outside.

"Shhh," he said loudly, "We got company." He tossed off the blanket, got to his feet and walked somewhat crookedly towards the entrance. Boswell followed. They both took out their guns.

"Colonel!" LeBeau shouted, "You in there?" He was just able to poke his head through. His flashlight temporarily blinded Boswell.

"LeBeau? Is that you?"

"Wait! Hold on, Colonel. We'll try and dig you out. Are you hurt?"

"No, but I have an injured man in here."

Lebeau crawled backwards. "He's in there," he announced happily.

"See!" Hogan hit Boswell on the back. "I told you they would come."

"Yes, you did."

"We need to work fast to get back in time," Olsen pointed out.

"Dig the top out a little deeper and we should be able to get in there and get the colonel out," LeBeau suggested. "Rather than worry about the whole pile."

"That's a plan," Olsen agreed. The six men started digging and were shortly able to make a small ditch. LeBeau was then able to climb down.

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," Hogan said.

LeBeau thought he smelled liquor, but didn't comment. "Was your contact injured? Oh, it's you two?" He asked as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Don't even ask," Hogan said.

The men made it back to camp with an hour to spare. Wilson was waiting in the tunnel for his patient, having been notified by radio of the rescue. It was a crowded tunnel system that night; two spies and seven fliers taking up temporary residence, plus one colonel waiting for word on Garrett's condition.

"You two did a good job, Colonel," Wilson said as he put the finishing touches on Garrett's wounds.

"Did we get everything?" Hogan asked as he peered over the medic's shoulder.

"Yes." The medic sprinkled sulfa on several spots and then bandaged the area. Garrett, who had been given a shot of morphine, was now sleeping. Wilson covered him with a blanket; then looked up at Hogan. "You and Boswell worked well together."

Hogan, who was developing a headache, and whose mouth now felt like paste, grunted. "I have to contact London and make a report," he sighed.

"Try to get some sleep after roll call, sir." Wilson ordered. "You look like you can use it." He grinned.

Hogan went over to the radio, where Boswell was finishing his report on the failure of his mission. He looked up at Hogan with bloodshot eyes. "Your turn," he said, as he shakily got up from the chair and headed off to check on his partner.

"Gee, thanks," Hogan answered.

"Sorry to hear it," was the response when Hogan informed his handler of a failed contact. "We were counting on this," the handler reported.

"Apparently, so was the OSS," was Hogan's reply.

"Repeat that, Papa Bear."

"The OSS sent agents out for the same information. The two men who needed a message passed."

Silence.

"London, you there?"

"We know nothing about that."

"Are you sure? I was there."

"Sorry?"

"We ended up in the same grove, pointing guns at each other, and then getting caught in an air raid that showed up 2 hours early."

"Sorry."

"Like I said, the last time this happened," Oh my head, Hogan thought,"I suggested that the two organizations have a nice chat over a cup of tea and get yourselves coordinated! These guys were stuck here for three weeks, and they attracted attention from the Gestapo!"

"Well, at least this time, Hogan," his handler chuckled, "At least you didn't end up accidentally shipped back to stand trial."

"What?"

"Hold on, Papa Bear."

Hogan waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He could hear all the voices in the background.

"Sorry, old boy. That wasn't funny. We are all very upset at the mission failure and we will contact the OSS and coordinate intelligence," Hogan's handler said in a monotone.

Hogan held his tongue and signed off. He climbed upstairs, chewed some aspirin, and reported for roll call with a hangover and bloodshot eyes.

"Colonel Hogan. Colonel Hogan? Are you in there?"

"Schultz, not so loud," Hogan whispered.

"He's sick, Schultzie," Newkirk tried to block the sergeant. "Can we make this quick?"

"Rrepooort!" Klink came hustling over.

"All present and accounted for, Kommandant."

Klink stared at the colonel for a moment. "You sick?" He asked him point blank.

"No. Yes. Bad night. Noisy. Did you hear the raid?" Hogan coughed to make a point.

Klink pondered that for a moment. "Disssmissed!"

"I'm going back to bed," Hogan announced as everyone returned inside. "Don't bother me unless Eisenhower is on the phone."

"I think he and the other two had a little too much to drink last night."

"Now why would he do that, Newkirk?" Carter asked. "That doesn't sound like the colonel. He's too on the ball."

"It was cold, damp and dark in there, Andrew," Lebeau explained. "Warmed them up."

"It probably started as a medicinal thing," Kinch noted, "And then, what the heck. They finished the bottle."

"No one's perfect, Andrew." LeBeau started rustling around the room. "I know a great cure for a hangover."

After taking the aspirin that Wilson had provided, Boswell sat down on a cot down below. He stared at the roof for a moment, wondering how Hogan would react when told that, due to Garrett's injuries, the two of them would be stuck in camp for another week.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Chapter 10  
FUBAR

Chapter 10

Hogan slept for several hours; then headed down below to check on the assorted guests taking up residence in the tunnels. His first stop was a small area where Boswell and Garrett were sacking out.

"Well. You look as good as I feel," Boswell said to Hogan.

"Don't remind me." Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose. He walked over to the other cot. "How are you feeling, Garrett?"

The agent, one arm thrown over his face, was lying on his back, one leg up. "Hanging in there, sir."

Hogan patted Garrett's shoulder and glanced at Boswell. "Guess what? I was wrong. Looks like my department didn't know what your department was doing."

"I got the same story as you when I spoke to our office. Another screw up. But there's one thing," Boswell continued. "This contact; he had to make the first connection. Somehow, he must've talked to both organizations."

"Or, he talked, and then someone else did," Hogan said. "And maybe that person deliberately set up two separate missions as an insurance policy."

"Too bad it didn't work," Garrett, who had been listening, said. "Todd said our office was upset."

"Mine, too." Hogan figured the contact had been caught and killed, rather than chicken out. "Guess we'll never know."

"Nope," Boswell agreed. "Um, we have to stay here a few more days. Wilson said Mitch isn't ready to travel yet."

"I heard. You can help with the processing of the guys we rescued. We can use the extra hands."

"Sure, I'll do that," Boswell said

"I guess I can finish up my afghan," Garrett laughed. "Ouch! Now that hurt."

"Colonel? Oh, there you are." Carter poked his head around the corner. "Hey guys, we have a pick-up scheduled in two days."

"These two can't go yet. Not until Wilson clears Garrett."

"Oh." Carter walked over to Garrett's cot. "Better do what Wilson says, then. Let anyone of us know if you need something."

"Thanks." Garrett rolled over and slowly sat up. "Colonel, I never thanked you for helping me out in the cave."

Hogan grinned. "You're welcome." He glanced over at Boswell. "We worked well together; not that I plan on going into medicine in the future."

Boswell was shocked at Hogan's compliment, but held his tongue. "He's right, Mitch. We did work well together."

Carter, now happy, pleased, and grinning with the change in attitude in the colonel and the two agents, went upstairs and reported that, for now, everyone was finally getting along.

Colonel Klink was still mulling over the odd situation involving the two prisoners transferred to Stalag 9, and Hogan's reaction to them. Something in his gut told him they weren't who they said they were.

Hochstetter is an idiot, he thought. The man even thinks Hogan is responsible for all of the sabotage. "Impossible," he said out loud. Now angry that the Gestapo major hadn't taken him seriously, Klink decided to pick up the phone.

"Hilda, please connect me to the Kommandant at Stalag 9." Klink waited impatiently for the connection to go through, and picked up the phone before the second ring signaling that the other Kommandant was on the line. The two Kommandants exchanged a few pleasantries and then Klink came to the point. "Those two privates I sent over, I wanted to let you know they might be Gestapo plants. Just a warning. The Gestapo denied it, of course. What? What prisoners? I placed the call myself. Yes. Thank you." Klink hung up the phone. "I knew it," he said. He got up. "I just knew it. Hogan thought he knew, but he couldn't be sure." Klink laughed. "But I know, and you don't." Ecstatic that he now knew something that his senior POW officer didn't know, Klink left his office in a great mood, forgetting to question how his original phone call got misdirected.

Later that afternoon, Klink, who was looking out the window, left his office after he spied Hogan relaxing in the compound. He nonchalantly stopped next to the bench where Hogan, who was observing a volleyball game, had taken a seat.

"I take it you are feeling better, Colonel Hogan?"

"Yeah. Thanks. The fresh air helps."

"Ah, that's good." The Kommandant was almost bouncing.

Hogan looked at him suspiciously. Klink was too happy. Yes, definitely cheerful, and that was not a good sign.

"Anything up, sir?" Hogan asked. "You look like you have something to say."

"No." Klink smiled. "No, just checking in, that's all; and to tell you the truth…" he emphasized the last word, "I think I know something that you thought you knew, but that you weren't sure about knowing."

"Excuse me? I'm not following you."

"No?" Klink chuckled. "Never mind. Forget what I said."

Now that's bizarre. Hogan shook his head and returned to the barracks.

One week later.

"Colonel Hogan to see you, Kommandant."

Klink looked up from his never-ending paperwork.

"Thanks, Fraulein. Send him in." Normally, he would be annoyed at the interruption. But he was still in a good mood. General Burkhalter was in Berlin and couldn't be reached, which meant he wouldn't bother Klink. Hochstetter had not been to the camp since Klink had called him out several weeks earlier. No new prisoners had been sent to Stalag 13, which was now in danger of becoming overcrowded, and Hogan had basically kept the prisoners in line, despite the shortages. Yes, Klink, although fearful the war was about to be lost, was in a good mood. After all, there wasn't much he could do about the oncoming onslaught of Allied troops. That wasn't his problem.

Hogan walked in.

"What can I do…" Klink started to say; then his jaw dropped at the sight in front of him. The Senior POW's head was missing. It was hidden behind a huge pile of what appeared to be knitted goods.

"Thanks, Kommandant. May I?" Hogan dumped the entire pile on Klink's desk.

"Hogan, what is the meaning of this?" Klink started pouring through the assorted hats, scarves and afghans now covering his entire desktop. Fortunately, Hogan had missed the top of Klink's helmet.

"Scarves, afghans and hats. For winter relief. The orphanage in Hammelburg, sir. The prisoners have been bored, and we had some extra wool." Hogan shrugged. "Besides," his eyes twinkled, "You can't take it with you."

"That's very generous of you, Hogan. But surely your men could use these?"

"No, sir. We have enough of this stuff, believe it or not." Supplies of winter wear, extra rations and whatever additional medical supplies the prisoners could scrounge, were stored down in the tunnels.

"I'm really touched by this gesture, Colonel Hogan. Please, thank your men."

"I will be sure to do that." Hogan waited. "You know, sir, it's for the kids, but we are getting hungry."

"Rations have been cut. You know that," Klink said sharply.

"Dirty." Hogan tried.

"No extra hot water. The guards are dirty as well," Klink retorted.

"Scared of the dark?" That was a lame attempt on Hogan's part, but it was worth a shot. He removed an afghan from the pile.

Klink caved. He reached over and took back the afghan. "An extra half hour of electricity at night. And that's my final offer."

"You're a true humanitarian, sir." Hogan saluted and turned on his heels.

"Are you sure he won't hoard my scarves?" Garrett asked Hogan. He and Boswell were about to leave the camp for good this time.

"Klink is a sneak," Hogan responded. "But, he has enough winter outerwear. He won't deprive the kids. He wouldn't sink that low. He's given aid to relief organizations before. And the orphanage will send a thank you note, which he'll parade in front of me, and then frame."

"Good." Garrett, who was now fully recovered from his injuries, suddenly became tongue-tied.

"So, we're okay?" Boswell asked.

"We're okay," Hogan repeated. "Unless you two show up here again."

"Not if we can help it," Garrett joked. "Listen, I've never met a bunch of guys not in the front lines who take more risks than you and the men in this camp do."

"There are others out there," Hogan replied, "But thanks. Be careful." He held out his hand.

Garrett shook it. "You, too."

"Colonel," Boswell held out his hand, "I know I've been a pain in the ass, but I second what he said. I owe you a beer after the war."

"You're on." Hogan shook Boswell's hand. "Hey, before you two go, take this, memorize it and then eat it or whatever." He handed Boswell a small piece of paper.

Boswell opened it up and raised his eyebrows. "Recognition code and a radio frequency?"

"In case of emergency. We'll know it's you."

"Why, Colonel, I didn't know you cared," Garrett laughed as he and Boswell climbed up the ladder heading to the outside.

I didn't know I did either, Hogan thought as he climbed up the ladder heading to the barracks.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Operation Halyard. 1944. I discovered this operation over the summer while doing research for this story. I was hoping to find a real good reason for Barrett and Boswell to return to the area. This story was so unbelievable and fit in so well with Hogan's operation that I wanted to at least mention it. But, unfortunately, like Hogan said. "We're nowhere near Yugoslavia." Operation Halyard was a mission launched by OSS agents stationed in Italy with help from a Serbian general. They successfully rescued 500 airmen who were shot down during air raids on Yugoslavian oil fields. The airmen were being hidden by partisans, peasants, and farmers behind enemy lines. The rescue teams built an airstrip right under German noses, and flew them all out on C-47s. For political reasons, this operation was kept secret by Britain, the U.S. and the Yugoslavian gov't. for many years. There is a terrific book out that describes the operation. The Forgotten 500: The Untold Story of the Men Who Risked All for the Greatest Rescue Mission of World War II, by Gregory A. Freemen. The author also has a website. Perhaps another HH author out there can find a way to get the "heroes" involved.


End file.
